Rule 4
by Bob Rhynoplasty
Summary: SLASH Season 2 AU Sometimes, it is better to share a secret... It may just save your life. And Tony's about to find how true that statement is. Now with book cover by Rogue187, which is all kinds of awesome
1. 1

**Rule #4**

**Summary: **AU of Season 2: Sometimes, it is better to share a secret. It may just save your life...

**Disclaimer: **Sadly I continue to own nothing of NCIS or anyone affiliated with it. And the damn restraining order on me doesn't help matters. Oh wait, moving on.

**Rating: **As high as you can possibly go, NC-17, or M, whichever you prefer to call it.

**Pairing: **Gibbs/DiNozzo (Obviously, this is me that's writing this, after all).

**Warnings: **This chapter is incredibly graphic, I'm talking sex beyond sex beyond sex. This story will also contain mentions of RAPE, SEXUAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE OF A CHILD AND SEXUAL AND PHYSICAL ABUSE OF AN ADULT, if any of that bothers you, I would suggest TURNING AROUND NOW. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED. I want to let everybody know that the plan for this story is pretty dang horrible.

**Author's Note: **This story is dedicated to the wonderful UnstoppableForce for acting as an awesome sounding board and helping to turn this story into what it is today, which granted, certainly says something about her sanity. And also to the equally wonderful Toadflame for agreeing to put up with me and beta this story. Without either of you, I would not be posting this at all! It would just be a jumbled mess of thoughts and images in my head. Give them a round of applause ladies and gentlemen!

A few more notes, A.) as stated above, this is an AU of season 2, I figured, I wrote a long preseason story, I wrote a long story which included Ziva, I figured it was time I shared the love to Kate, who I always did like. And B.) This is a writing in progress, but I am pretty far ahead, and now that school is out (and I need to write a 30 page story for my grad school application) I fully intend to get pump this story out, hopefully within the month. Preferably, before my roadtrip this June (Me and my best friend are driving to a different state just to see the Backstreet Boys in concert. We are really that insane).

And now, onto smut!

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><p><strong>1<strong>

Jethro slammed him against the wall. DiNozzo let out a sound that was a mix between a grunt and a whimper that sent a pulse through Jethro's cock.

He knew he shouldn't have been doing this. Tony worked for him, for God's sake. But he couldn't stop his hands from roaming over the younger man's body, or his hips from grinding their erections together.

Tony kept making those noises, practically begging Jethro to fuck him. The older man smiled. He always knew that Tony was a man-whore. Hell, he probably _would_ beg in a few minutes.

Jethro pulled Tony into his chest before slamming him into the wall again. He shoved his tongue forcefully down Tony's throat. He took control of the kiss, demanded dominance right from the start. And Tony just gave it to him.

He grabbed onto Tony's belt buckle and pulled him towards the bedroom. Clothes were shucked along the way. By the time he stood before his bed, Tony was completely naked and he was only wearing his boxers and socks. He pushed the younger man onto the mattress and watched as he bounced up and down.

Jethro stared down at the man on the bed, the light from the hallway making it appear as though the shadows were dancing across his face. Tony was quite possibly the sexiest man he had ever seen in his life. He had the perfect amount of hair across his chest. His cock was huge and stood at full mast, the tip leaking beads of pre-come down the shaft.

Jethro licked his lips. Then he pounced.

He straddled the younger man's hips, grinding against him, as he once again attacked DiNozzo's lips. Just like last time, DiNozzo submitted to him.

He had never known that DiNozzo was so submissive before, but it seemed that the more Jethro dominated him, the more turned on the young man got. Jethro could definitely work with that.

He reached between them and grabbed onto DiNozzo's hard dick. The younger man gasped in pleasure. "You like that, don't ya DiNozzo?" Jethro asked, low and seductively. He chuckled as he felt the shiver course through DiNozzo's body.

"Of course you do." He reached down and nipped at DiNozzo's neck. Again, he made those grunting, whimper sounds. "You like me being in charge, huh? That turn you on, DiNozzo?"

DiNozzo sucked in his breath, but he still hadn't said anything. He reached his arms up and ran them over Jethro's torso. He gripped Jethro's sides and pinched lightly. The older man gasped as his cock twitched again.

_Fuck, what the fuck was that_? No wonder DiNozzo got so much tail.

It took Jethro a moment to get his bearings again. DiNozzo wasn't in charge here, Jethro was. He had to remember that. He bit DiNozzo's ear. "You're catching, Tony." It wasn't a question. Hell, it wasn't even really a request. Jethro was a Marine. Marines pitched. And he was not going to break that tradition for a pretty boy like Tony DiNozzo, who deserved to be fucked until he couldn't walk for a week.

DiNozzo nodded a little uncertainly as his fingers slid across Jethro's back, raising goosebumps across his skin.

Jethro pulled away. DiNozzo looked at him, completely confused. "I wanna see you with my dick in your mouth, DiNozzo."

A part of him felt really foolish. He wasn't the kind of guy who talked dirty during sex. Hell, he didn't talk during sex, period. But he realized earlier that DiNozzo responded to it. So he went with it.

A smile lit up the younger man's face as he dove forward and swallowed Jethro in one take. Jethro threw his head back and groaned. He bucked his hips forward, fucking DiNozzo's face. DiNozzo didn't stop him, he just went with it. And he knew what he was doing. His tongue slid across the thick vein on the underside of his shaft, he sucked with just the right amount of pressure. Jethro knew he had to stop if he ever wanted to bury his dick inside of DiNozzo's ass. If DiNozzo kept sucking like this, he was going to come far too soon. But he didn't want to stop. It just felt too damn good!

DiNozzo pulled off the next time Jethro moaned. Slowly, he crawled away and turned around, positioning himself on his knees with his ass up in the air, waiting to be taken. It was the first time the older man noticed DiNozzo had a tattoo on his back at the root of his spine. A small, intricately designed X. The older man thought it was a little high up.

Jethro licked his lips. He wanted to plunge into that beautiful body now. He wanted to hear DiNozzo screaming his name as he climaxed.

But instead, he got to his knees and crawled over to the nightstand where he kept his condoms. He didn't have any lubricant. It had been so long since he'd been with a man, he never bothered to get any.

He searched around trying to find anything that could substitute for the missing item. But he didn't even have hand lotion.

Damn it, he wasn't going to fuck DiNozzo dry, but he didn't want to stop just because he couldn't find a lubricant.

Then he got an idea.

He jumped off the bed and headed for the bathroom. He grabbed his bottle of shampoo and went back into the bedroom. Tony was still in the same position, on his knees, rear in the air. He looked at Jethro over his shoulder. His pupils were fully dilated with lust.

Jethro suppressed the shiver that went down his spine and tossed him the bottle. "Prepare yourself." He grabbed the condom and rolled it over his aching cock.

His eyes were glued to the sight before him. DiNozzo, his goo covered fingers slowly slipping in and out of his tight hole. Pulling them apart and twisting them around. Jethro licked at his dry lips again. He wanted to touch himself, but he knew that with how turned on he was, he would come within a matter of seconds. DiNozzo was driving him crazy, and he wasn't even touching him.

The younger man pushed a third finger through the ring of muscle, quickly followed by a fourth. Jethro heard a moan. It wasn't until later that he realized he was the one who made it. Right now, he was only focused on one thing. Those long, thin fingers stretching DiNozzo out.

"I'm good, boss." DiNozzo pulled his hand away from his ass and spread his legs further apart. Jethro didn't need any more convincing.

He jumped on the bed and lined himself up. Without hesitation, he pushed forward until his tight, straining cock was pushed all the way in DiNozzo's body. The young man threw his head back and made that fucking noise again. He arched his back and squeezed his muscles around Jethro's dick.

"Holy shit." He grabbed onto DiNozzo's hips to stop himself from falling over. He took a few more deep breaths. "Ride me," he ordered.

DiNozzo needed no other encouragement. He moved his body, back and forth, letting Jethro slip in and out of him.

Jethro could barely breathe. It all felt so good. The way DiNozzo moved just sent waves of pleasure through his body. Everything that he did drove Jethro wild. In his entire life he never had this kind of experience in sex. It never felt this intense before.

He couldn't hold himself back any further. He gripped DiNozzo's hips so tight he most likely left bruises and pushed forward. DiNozzo screamed in ecstasy. Jethro kept thrusting forward, in and out. Every time he pushed forward, DiNozzo pushed back, driving Jethro even further into his body. His muscles were tight around Jethro's cock.

It felt so good, so tight. He felt like an animal who couldn't get enough. He leaned forward and pressed kisses against DiNozzo's sweating back, licked his tattoo like a lollypop. The skin was wet and salty and tasted so fucking good. He thrust harder, moved faster.

DiNozzo reached behind him and grabbed onto Jethro's side, squeezing. Jethro yelped, his balls already tightening up. They had only been going for a handful of minutes, but he couldn't stop himself. He was going to come. He couldn't help it.

Two more thrusts into that perfect body and his muscles tightened as his orgasm overtook him. DiNozzo made that noise again as he shot clean, white lines onto the bed. Jethro bucked harder, riding out his climax.

Finally spent, he collapsed onto his agent, taking them both down. He didn't pull out right away. He enjoyed the feeling too much. DiNozzo was just so tight.

After another minute or two, he finally pulled out and rolled over. He smiled when he felt the bed dip as DiNozzo stood up. _Good_, he thought. He didn't want DiNozzo to think that just because they fucked one night that they were suddenly going to be a couple or anything. He chuckled at that thought. Tony DiNozzo in a serious relationship. That was about as likely to happen as a pig flying first class.

He waited until he heard the front door slam shut before he closed his eyes. He was asleep within minutes.

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><p><strong>You all have got to know that it just about killed me to write this chapter with DiNozzo bottoming. But I did it! Just like I finished the second to last day of this semester, which included 2 papers, and an hour and a half long exam, back to back (this is my present to myself for not going crazy on my school and my professors). So I hope you enjoy and I will see you for the next update!<strong>

**Bob**


	2. 2

**Here I present to you, chapter 2! Just so everybody knows, from now on, I'm going to try and update this story every four days, that way if I'm lucky I can stay ahead and give you consistant updates. Hope you all enjoy!**

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><p><strong>2<strong>

The elevator dinged, letting Jethro know that he had reached his floor. He had a smirk plastered on his face that he couldn't get rid of, no matter how hard he tried. There was no physical reminder, but he still felt sated after his night with DiNozzo.

He strode into the bullpen, his team already sitting and working on their respective computers.

Kate and DiNozzo were at each other's throats again. At first glance—hell, at second glance—nothing looked any different. If Jethro hadn't been there, he never would have known that DiNozzo had sex last night.

"Not all of us feel the need to share everything, Tony," Kate said with a grin in her voice.

Jethro could tell that DiNozzo had a quip on his lips, but he stopped when he saw Jethro approach. His light smile turned to an awkward frown. He swallowed a lump in his throat and turned back to his computer, no doubt closing down a program he shouldn't have been running in the first place.

"What?" Kate asked with a hint of smugness in her voice. "Got nothing to say now?"

Jethro moved into the bullpen. "Less talk, more work, Kate."

Her smile fell as she straightened up. "Morning, Gibbs."

"Morning, Boss," Tony added, trying to act in his usual chipper way.

Jethro smiled. There was the awkward morning after behavior that he was looking for.

"Morning, Boss," Agent McGee threw in. He sounded like he thought Jethro was going to bite his head off for uttering a word in his direction.

Tim McGee was his youngest and newest agent. He had only been a field agent for a few months. He scared easily—the poor kid was petrified of Jethro, DiNozzo and Kate—and he was too conscious of his actions, trying not to piss anybody off. He had a few moments when he was able to stand up to the others, but they were rare. He was getting better, thanks to all the jokes DiNozzo sent his way. But the kid was smart, and he was able to think well on his feet. With a little training, he'd make one hell of an agent.

His eyes scanned to Kate's desk. Kate Todd was a bit of an anomaly. She was all woman, right down to her love of tofu wraps. But she wasn't afraid to fight with the boys. Hell, Jethro personally got the pleasure of witnessing that a few times. She claimed to hate DiNozzo, but she never hesitated to follow his schemes, or go along with his hazing of McGee. The two really were like a brother and sister. Jethro just wished he wasn't the one always stuck playing referee between them.

He took a sip of his coffee and booted up his computer. They didn't have a case yet, but it was only a matter of time. Caseless days were few and far between.

Sure enough, three minutes later his phone rang. Dead sailor. Found at the Reflecting Pool at the Mall. That was new. Not the smartest of dumping grounds, but still new.

"Gear up!"

He suppressed his smile. Two words and his people jumped. No questions. Just grabbed their backpacks and followed him into the elevator.

Jethro ignored the way DiNozzo stood as far away from his as the metallic box would allow. McGee and Kate were completely oblivious to the problem. DiNozzo was the best undercover agent Jethro ever met. Despite his discomfort, he came off as completely normal.

Jethro personally didn't feel any discomfort. He was still focused on how satisfied he felt.

They got off at the first floor and went out into the parking garage. McGee separated from the rest of them to go gas the truck. Gibbs went off towards the sedan, Tony right behind him. He waited until they were a good distance away from Kate before he turned around and glared. He had a hunch about what Tony was doing, and he didn't want to have this conversation in front of her.

"We need to talk, Gibbs."

"No, we don't."

DiNozzo rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored him. "About last night—"

Jethro cut him off with a chuckle. "DiNozzo, we had a little too much to drink and we fooled around. It's not a big deal, and we don't have to talk about it again." Without waiting for a reply, he turned and walked to the sedan. DiNozzo finally got the hint and didn't follow him.

He may have been a little harsh with DiNozzo, but he didn't want to talk about last night. He went for it because he figured DiNozzo wouldn't want to talk about getting fucked by his old bastard of a boss. But apparently he was wrong.

He sighed heavily. It was over and done with, and there was no point dwelling on it.

The ride to the crime scene was quiet. For once, Jethro didn't speed through the streets. Ever since he hired Anthony DiNozzo, he rarely got a moment of peace. He reveled in these few moments of silence.

He parked away from the scene to give his people room. The truck pulled up, DiNozzo behind the wheel. He and Kate were smiling. Apparently, as soon as his back was turned, they had started on their earlier conversation again. Not that Jethro could say that he was surprised.

Ignoring them for now, he made his way over to the Metro cop standing behind the perimeter.

He was a portly man who had apparently spent more time at a donut shop than he spent out in the field.

"You NCIS?" he asked with a thick Southern tang.

Jethro held his ID up. "Special Agent Gibbs."

"Detective Donovan Crockett, nice to meet ya, Agent Gibbs."

"Yeah. What do ya got?"

Crockett led him closer to the pool. The place was swamped with people, all of them trying to get closer to see the body. "Well, not much. About six-thirty this mornin' some jogger caught sight of what looked like a drunk who fell in the pool. He went to try and pull him out, see if he could save him, but uh, the fellow was long dead."

Jethro finally saw the body. Yeah, there was no way he could have been saved with CPR. Most of it had been washed off, but there was a patch of blood on the front of the man's shirt surrounding a small tear. His face was gray and bloated.

"My people will take over from here," Jethro said. Out of the corner of his eye he saw his agents step through the mass of people. "But if you could spare a few people to keep the mob out, I'd appreciate it."

Crockett nodded. "Sure, I guess I can spare a coupla Unies." He looked out into the crowd. "You're gonna need 'em."

"Yeah." The place was a zoo. Actually, it was worse than a zoo. In a zoo, the animals are all caged.

Crockett nodded before he left. Jethro turned back to watch his people already working. Tony was sketching, Kate was shooting—Jethro wasn't sure when that became a two man job—and McGee was bagging and tagging.

Jethro made his way closer to the body as Ducky stepped into the crime scene, once again shouting at Palmer.

"Sorry we're late, Jethro. Mr. Palmer got us lost again."

Jethro was about to say something when his senior field agent caught his eye. Ducky started talking about the dead body, but Jethro drowned him out.

DiNozzo had stopped working. Something had caught his eye, and he dropped everything he was doing and just stared.

Jethro groaned. That kind of reaction could only mean one thing: he caught the eye of some pretty girl. When was that idiot going to learn that an investigation was not the time to get a date?

"DiNozzo!" He bellowed.

The younger man jerked his gaze over to his boss. Jethro gave his best "back to work" glare; even from the distance, DiNozzo should have gotten the clue. But the younger man turned back to the crowd, seemingly oblivious. Jethro's anger started to bubble over. He made his way over to his agent. But before he could get close enough, DiNozzo wiped a hand over his face and picked up his sketchbook again.

Jethro stopped. The woman must have disappeared. Satisfied that he successfully destroyed DiNozzo's sex life once again, he went back to do his own work with Ducky.

It wouldn't be until much later that Jethro would realize just how wrong he really was.

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><p><strong>Fair warning, Gibbs is going to be pretty much a bastard throughout this entire story. Like everything else, it does have a purpose, I promise. Also, these chapters are short,I forgot to say that earlier. <strong>

**Bob**


	3. 3

**I really intended to have this up sooner, that was an epic fail on my part, I am so sorry. I promise I will not forget updates like this again. **

**About the length of the chapters, last chapter, I told you that these chapters are typically short, and sadly they are. I always try to make them as long as possible, but it never seems to work out well for me. I don't want to force the chapter to be longer, because then they're most likely going to suck, probably as bad as my early postings (I would never ask any of you to read those, they are really that bad), and I don't want to post something that sucks just because I'm trying to get a higher word count. Sadly, the chapters tell me when they want to end, and anything beyond that is filler or just plain stupid. But I am sorry for making you guys wait so long for short chapters.**

**One more thing before I forget, this story, I'm trying something a little new with page breaks. After the Guy Weekend fiasco where all of my page breaks for 23 chapters was deleted, I've been trying new methods to prevent a similar problem from happening in the future, so this story, I'm using lines from the poem "For the Gate of the Courtesans" by Henri de Régnier. I'm letting you know because I officially begin using them in this chapter, so to avoid confusion when you see random bold in the middle of the story, those are not annoying random author's notes in the middle of the story. I think listening to me ramble at the beginning and end of the chapters is bad enough. **

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><p><strong>3<strong>

Tony paced back and forth in his apartment. Gibbs had let them go home at the reasonable hour of eight o'clock. Right now, it was around midnight, but that didn't matter to him. He couldn't stop moving. If he did, he'd notice his fingers still twitching. Subconsciously, he scratched his tattoo. He should have had the damn thing removed years ago. He still had no idea why he kept it.

How did they find him? More importantly, why were they still looking for him? He wasn't the only kid who ran away. There must have been dozens who ran from the compound over the years. Surely they wouldn't waste their resources looking for every one of them. A part of him hoped that he was just being paranoid, that what he saw at the crime scene was just a big coincidence. But then a voice in his head that sounded a lot like Gibbs kept saying coincidences don't exist.

He finally plopped down on the couch and covered his face with his hands. He had hoped that he had put all of this behind him.

He needed to get away. Disappear for a couple of days until they stopped looking. If Tony was lucky, he'd send them on a wild goose chase across the country.

He grabbed his phone and dialed an all-too-familiar number.

It rang three times before he heard the usual gruff, "Yeah, Gibbs."

"Boss, it's DiNozzo. Listen, I need to take a few personal days." Silence was his response. "My uncle died." That sounded sort of believable, if Tony had any uncles to speak of.

"Which one?"

Damn it, why did Gibbs need specifics? "Uncle Clive. He lives in London." That may have been over the top. But hey, maybe he could send them gallivanting around England for a while till he figured out what to do.

"You have family in London?" Gibbs asked skeptically.

_Maybe_. "Yeah, my mom's brother." He wiped at his face. "We were really close."

He heard a heavy sigh on the other end. He hoped with all his might that Gibbs fell for his lie. Just once, he hoped that he could fool his boss. "DiNozzo, if you aren't in the office tomorrow at 0700, you can start looking for another job." Next thing Tony heard was the distinctive 'click,' indicating that Gibbs had hung up.

Tony stared down at the receiver in his hand in shock. Then he jumped up and tossed the piece of shit across the room, imagining it was Gibbs. "Son of a bitch!" He screamed at the top of his lungs.

The phone shattered in a million pieces, but Tony didn't care. The one time he needed something, truly needed something, Gibbs was still a bastard about it.

Then again, maybe this was a good thing. If he didn't show up for work, Gibbs would fire him, sure. But maybe it was time for him to move on anyway. He left Peoria and Philadelphia when they started to move in on him then. Maybe he should try the West Coast.

His door bell rang, pulling him out of his thoughts. Tony's gut twisted. He hoped that it was Abby or Kate, or somebody else that he liked. But he knew that it wasn't.

He grabbed his gun off the coffee table and made his way to the door. He didn't bother with the peep hole.

The woman on the other side was even more beautiful now than she was the last time he saw her. Her hair was cut in a dark brown bob, and her make-up was minimal, save for her lipstick. Her lips were dark glossy red. She smiled at him.

"Are you going to shoot me, Tony?" She wasn't afraid, not in the slightest.

"I'm thinking about it." He cocked the gun to prove his point. "Hello Amalea."

"Are you going to invite me in?"

"Not a chance in hell."

She laughed. "Tony, do you really want me to talk about this in the hallway? You should remember I can get very loud."

Tony silently cursed. Even now, he got played.

Without putting the gun down, he stepped back and opened the door wider. Amalea stepped inside, still smiling.

Tony took a look at her outfit. Real fur coat on top of a Dolce and Gabbana dress, Prada shoes, and a Louis Vuitton bag. She had moved up in the world.

She dropped her fur on his couch and faced him with her hands on her hips. "Things have changed back home."

"That hell hole was never my home."

She rolled her eyes, but otherwise ignored him. "I'm in charge now."

That was surprising. "How the hell did that happen?" He thought she had already moved on.

She just shrugged. "When Emmett died, I went back to the compound. And when Daddy retired, it was agreed that nobody knew the business better than me." She looked awfully proud of herself. Tony didn't know how. She basically became everything that he hated in this world.

But Tony had other things on his mind. "Congratulations. What the hell does this have to do with me?"

Amalea's smile finally fell as she stepped closer to him.

Tony lifted the gun higher till it was aimed between her eyes.

She stopped moving. "I want you to come back with me."

Tony couldn't help it. He laughed out loud. "Now why would I do something like that?" He'd cut off his own dick before he went back to the compound.

"Because it's who you are."

He shook his head. "No, it's not."

She laughed again. "You really think this is who you are? Special Agent Anthony DiNozzo? Ex-football star?"

"That is who I am." He wanted to shout at her, but he knew that he had to keep his cool. If nothing else, he could not let Amalea see she had an effect on him.

"Then tell me this. Why did you join a fraternity? For _brotherhood_?" She said it with a sneer in her voice. "And what was your pledge name? Sex Machine?" The more she spoke, the closer she moved until she was right in front of him. "And what exactly did you do last night?"

Without even thinking, Tony pushed her away and punched her in the nose. Then he ran out the door.

Amalea knew he had been with Gibbs last night. She knew what he had done. He wasn't safe in D.C. anymore. He needed to get away. Now.

Tony took the stairs instead of waiting for the elevator. He wasn't paying attention to his surroundings. He should have. He was a cop, he should have always been aware of his surroundings. It was a Probie mistake.

He barely made it out of the building when he felt a sharp shock to the side of his neck.

_**If to the town thou come some morning**_

By the time Tony came to, he was engulfed in complete darkness. His other senses picked up the slack. He could hear the sound of an engine, feel tires against asphalt.

"No," he breathed. He punched the space over him. His hand was stopped with a painful thud. Metal.

He was in the trunk of a car.

"No! No, damn it, let me out!" He searched around, trying to find the wire that would open the trunk, but either he was in an old car, or it had been cut out.

"Let me out! Amalea! Amalea! Let me out!" He kept pounding on the trunk, but it wouldn't budge. All it did was hurt his hand.

Tears slid down his cheeks. He spent most of his life running. Running away from the compound and these people. And still, they caught him.

And even worse, not even Gibbs could save him this time.

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><p><strong>Ok, so since this chapter was up so late, I am going to have this chapter up by Friday at the latest, and if I forget, feel free to throw rotten fruit at me. <strong>

**Bob**


	4. 4

**Well, for me, this is still Friday, but then again I didn't get to bed until five last night (Designated Driver, I hate being DD), and I've barely been at home to post until now (As sad as that sounds), but I'm posting! Relatively on time. And I think I'm not even going to bother with time tables, I just suck at them so beyond badly, it's not even funny.**

**And I need to brag (feel free to skip over this), I got half my grades back for this semester, And I got an A- in my one English class and an A in my other class. I got an A in Old English! Old English I got an A! Which means that my 13 page research analysis on Beowulf was not total crap because it was worth 50 percent of my grade! I am now pretty darn fluent in Old English, a skill that will serve me no purpose in life whatsoever, but still, I'm excited, considering I haven't gotten an A in an English class since I transferred back home, and my professor was a ridiculously hard grader. So, I've been very excited. I am not completely dumb! **

**And now that I've gotten that out of my system, I present to you, chapter 4! **

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><p><strong>4<strong>

When Jethro made it back to the office the next morning, he was mad as hell. They were right in the middle of a case and DiNozzo wanted to take off. Jethro knew his people. He knew when his people were lying. And DiNozzo lied about needing to go to a funeral. He didn't have an Uncle Clive. Jethro knew for a fact that DiNozzo's mother was an only child. Both of his parents were only children.

When he strode into the bullpen, he had every intention of slapping DiNozzo so hard, he'd get a concussion. He figured the younger man asked for some time off either because of how Jethro had handled the situation yesterday, or because he had hooked up with the beautiful woman from the crime scene yesterday and wanted a few days in bed with her. Either reason was not a legit cause to take off work in the middle of the case.

But when he got there, DiNozzo was nowhere to be found. Kate and McGee looked like they were there all night. But his so-called Senior Field Agent was UA.

He silently cursed. "Where's DiNozzo?" he growled at his two remaining agents.

McGee stuttered for about ten minutes before he finally looked Jethro in the eye. Even then, he couldn't get a sentence out.

Finally, Kate took pity on him. "He hasn't come in yet." Jethro turned to the only woman in the room. He was about to yell at her to call his cell when she continued, "I already called his house phone and his cell, he didn't pick up either."

Jethro huffed and sat down at his desk. "Try again." A part of him was tempted to get in his car, drive over to the young man's apartment and drag him into work by his hair. But a stronger part of him decided that if DiNozzo was just going to sit at home and pout, then he wasn't going to bother with him anymore. If DiNozzo didn't show up to work today, he was fired. Plain and simple.

It wasn't like DiNozzo wasn't good at his job, he was great at it, but today he was letting his personal emotions get in the way of doing his job, and Jethro just wouldn't tolerate that. It wasn't in his nature, and DiNozzo needed to learn that.

Kate looked up at him, her phone still stuck between her ear and her shoulder. "Still not answering, Gibbs."

"Forget him," he barked, harsher than he intended. He honestly never thought he'd lose DiNozzo this way. Jethro actually believed that DiNozzo would finally be the one to outlast him. Apparently, he was wrong.

But he couldn't focus on DiNozzo right now. He had a case to solve and, thanks to that bastard, he was a man short. That meant extra work for the rest of them. Normally, that wouldn't bother him. He was used to working on three man teams. Hell, he managed just fine with two man teams. But McGee was a Probie, and Kate, while shaping up to be an excellent agent, had only been on the team for a little over a year. He knew they wouldn't be able to handle the course load the same.

With a grunt, he stood up from his desk again and headed for the elevators. He needed to talk to Ducky about the autopsy on their dead sailor, Petty Officer Alvin Jones.

He stepped off the elevator and headed for the automatic doors. They swished open and he strode into autopsy. Ducky stood at the sink, cleaning off his hands. "Ah, Jethro. Right on time. I just finished with Petty Officer Jones."

"What do you got for me, Duck?" Jethro stopped when he was leaning over the body. Now that the man was cleaned off, he could tell that he was in his mid- to late thirties. He was handsome, fit. His torso had been sewn back up, but the giant Y shaped scar was prominent.

"Petty Officer Jones died from a single gunshot wound to the chest. The bullet lodged in his lung. I sent it up to Abby for analysis. Death would have been quick, but, sadly, not immediate. I'm afraid he suffered there for a while."

That was quick. "Got anything else?"

The medical examiner sighed heavily. "Unfortunately, no. The victim was in perfect health, and I found no forensics on the body that could help Abby pinpoint where he was murdered." He stopped for a moment. "Ah, but I did find one interesting thing on our dead sailor."

Jethro wondered why Ducky couldn't say that earlier. "And that was?"

"A tattoo." He started walking for his desk.

Jethro was confused. Both because Ducky was walking away from the body, and because a tattoo really wasn't all that helpful. And Abby cared more about body art than he did. "How is that helpful, Doctor?" He practically growled. Normally, Jethro was very lenient with Ducky. The man was his best friend. Hell, Ducky was his only friend. But right now, he was in a foul mood, and Ducky was only making it worse.

"I found this piece of body art on Petty Officer Jones' back at the root of his spine." He picked up a photograph and handed it over to his friend.

The tattoo was a small black calligraphic letter. Surrounding the letter were white swirls. "That's not the first time I've seen that tattoo, Jethro," Ducky finished, worry filling his voice.

Jethro just nodded at first before he was able to find his voice. "DiNozzo."

DiNozzo had the exact same tattoo in the exact same spot. He had noticed it the other night when they were having sex.

"Jethro." Ducky stepped closer. "You don't think Tony knew this man, do you?"

"I don't know." Jethro dropped the photograph back on Ducky's desk before he turned and started walking out of the lab. "But I'm about to find out."

When he was out in the hallway, he pulled out his cell phone and dialed Kate's number. She picked up after two rings with her usual, "Todd."

"Kate, go to DiNozzo's apartment. If he's there, I want you to drag him into work by his ear if you have to."

Kate was silent for a moment or two. "I thought you said forget about Tony."

"New info on the case he may be able to help with." Before she could ask him any questions, or argue with him more, he hung up just as the elevator arrived. He stepped in and pressed the button for Abby's lab.

When he stepped off again, his ears were immediately assaulted with the pounding noise that made up Abby's music. He could never figure out why Abby liked that kind of music so much, but if it helped her work, then he wouldn't complain… too much, at least.

Without even saying anything to her—not that he could over the din—he strode into her inner office and turned the radio off. Then he made his way closer to Abby.

Abby was a beautiful woman, around Tony's age, not that she would ever admit to it. She was also the most unique individual Jethro ever met. Her style was what she called 'Goth'—black clothes, dark make up and spiked dog collars were her usual look—but she was also the brightest person Jethro had met in a long time. In the four years that Jethro knew her, she became as close as a daughter to him. That was something he would probably never admit to.

"Hi Gibbs!" She practically beamed at him. That was probably one of the reasons that Jethro cared about her so much. She was one of the few people who weren't afraid of him. Actually, she seemed to adore him. It was something he never could understand, but it was also something he wouldn't risk losing for the life of him. "What can I do for you?"

"Ducky said he sent a bullet up for analysis." Even though he loved the forensic scientist, he was never one to beat around the bush.

Abby nodded enthusiastically. "He did, and I analyzed." She whirled around and started typing on one of her keyboards again. After a moment, the picture of a pistol popped up on the computer monitor. A few more key strokes, and an enlarged image appeared on the plasma hanging on the wall. Jethro stepped around her computer hub to get a better look at it.

"Meet our murder weapon. The Barretta M9 pistol. Used specifically for—"

"Military Personnel," Jethro said, cutting her off. He was very familiar with this pistol. He had one himself during Desert Storm.

"Too right you are, Gibbs. The M9 replaced the M1911A1 in the military in 1985. Now, there are similar models to this gun that any old Joe can buy, but this specific model is reserved solely for the military."

That certainly helped narrow their search down for Petty Officer Jones' murderer. They were looking for somebody currently serving his/her country.

"That's good work, Abs." Jethro was about to head out the door when a thought struck him. "Hey, Abby. Do you know where Tony got his tattoo?"

Abby shook her head. "He wouldn't tell me."

"But you know he's got one?"

She nodded. "I saw it a couple times." She gave him a smile that told Jethro exactly when and how she saw it.

"Did he tell you why he got it? Or how old he was?"

Again, she shook her head. "All he said about it was that it was a stupid youthful mistake. When I asked him about it more, he got silent and told me to drop the subject."

Jethro nodded, even though he couldn't understand it. Why did Tony get an X tattooed on his back? Of all tattoos that a young kid could get, what was so special about that particular letter? And how did he have the same tattoo as their victim?

"Palmer said that the victim has the same tattoo as Tony." Abby's leer faded. Now she looked at him with wide, worry filled eyes.

Jethro nodded. He figured there was no point saying anything when she already knew everything that he knew.

"You don't think it's a coincidence, do you?"

Jethro could have chuckled. "Nope." He turned and started walking out of the lab again. "I don't believe in 'em." He pushed the button and stepped onto the elevator as soon as the doors were opened.

His mind was reeling. This couldn't have been a coincidence. The way Tony acted at the crime scene yesterday, the exact same tattoos, and the fact that Tony was UA had Jethro's gut churning with dread. He had a feeling that something bad was about to happen, but he didn't have a clue what that could be.

As soon as the doors slid open again, his cell phone rang. The caller I.D. told him that it was Kate. "Did you find him?" he asked as soon as he put the phone to his ear.

"We have a problem, Gibbs."

He really hated it when people told him that. "What?" He strode purposefully to his desk and immediately opened his top drawer for his gun. "Is DiNozzo alright?"

"He's not here!"

Jethro paused for a second. The dread in his stomach intensifying. "What do you mean he's not there?"

"I mean, he's not here, Gibbs. The place looks fine, except that his phone's busted on the floor. But one of Tony's neighbors told me that late last night, Tony got a visitor, a woman."

Jethro almost groaned. If DiNozzo really had run off with a woman, there would be hell to pay.

"Tony didn't seem happy to see her," Kate continued, completely oblivious to his current thought process. "He had his gun pointed at her head as soon as he answered the door and refused to lower it. About fifteen minutes later, Tony apparently came barreling out of his apartment like the place was on fire. Alone. The woman followed a minute or two later."

The dread worsened even more. Jethro wasn't even sure how it was possible.

"I'll be right there." He hung up, grabbed his pistol and started walking towards the elevator again, barking at McGee to follow him.

The young agent stumbled over his desk, chair, and bag at least once each before he was finally able to scramble out of the bullpen. The worry on his face was palpable.

"What's going on, Boss?"

Jethro sighed and jammed a finger into the elevator button for the tenth time. "Tony's been kidnapped."

* * *

><p><strong> I know it's short, but I'm pretty sure it's longer than the last one! Does that count for something? Yeah, I didn't think so either.<strong>

**Bob**


	5. 5

**Ok, so I owe you all an explanation, and it will be a long one. So, a few days after my last post, I was working on starting chapter 13, when my father called and asked me to do something on the computer. When I tried to click over, my computer froze, so I went with my usual standby, I turned it off and turned it back on. Unfortunately, when I did, nothing happened. Well, something happened, it kept taking me to a screen asking if I wanted to start Windows normally, but it wouldn't let me go further than that. So, that night, I took my computer to my best friend's house, because her dad is a computer genius and he works much cheaper than Geek Squad, who I no longer trust anyways. Turns out I had a virus, so her dad got the virus all taken care of when the computer crashed, and at that point it was agreed that Lappy, as I dubbed my wonderful Gateway computer, was a lost cause. It turns out, my motherboard died. So, as soon as I could, my mother and I went to Best Buy (she agreed to let me pay for it on her credit card, so that way I could pay the computer off over time) and I found the perfect computer, a Toshiba, great graphics card (and in the fall, I'm going to school for Web Design, so I thought that would be fantastic) I could type on it, it wasn't too big, and it felt really cool. Unfortunately, the computer wasn't in the store, it had to be ordered, so I went and ordered it at Customer Service and was told that it would take five to seven days for the new computer to come in. Unfortunately, Best Buy has a lousy email system, because it turns out that the model I ordered was no longer being sold, and they only sent me an email saying that the item wasn't in the store. My first reaction was "Yes, I know that, hence why I ordered it" and when a week went by, I called, which is when they finally gave me a straight answer. Out of anger, I went and cleared out my bank account in order to buy a new computer that day, which was yesterday, actually. Well, two days ago, since it's four in the morning now. Immediately after picking up the new laptop, I went to my friend's house, so she could give it to her dad and get all of my files taken care of. I picked up the computer tonight, after discovering that the hard drive I literally just bought a few months ago died on me right after all of my files were transferred over. So, there was some luck to be had, but not much. Anyway, that is why this chapter is so late. I swear it was not intentional, and I've gone so long without writing anything that I am probably not going to go to sleep for quite a while. But I thought you deserved to know what the hold up was, and I am so sorry, I had no control over the situation, but if I did, I never would have made you wait so long.**

* * *

><p><strong>5<strong>

By the time the car finally stopped, Tony was in pain all over. His eyes had adjusted to the darkness, but it offered him no comfort. He had almost wished that he suffocated to death in that damn trunk. Or inhaled too much exhaust. Either was a better outcome than the one he was currently facing.

He heard the key in the lock click. He thought about pushing the hood of the trunk up fast enough to try and catch his kidnappers off guard, but he knew the action was futile. Amalea was many things, but stupid was not one of them.

Sure enough, as soon as the trunk popped up, he came face to face with three big, burly men, one holding a pistol straight at his face. Behind them stood Amalea, all smug grins. Tony sneered.

"Get out," said the brute with the gun.

"I think I'd rather have you shoot me."

The brute cocked the gun and smiled. "That can be arranged."

"Francis!" Amalea scolded, never taking her eyes off the man in the trunk. Tony smiled. He knew that Amalea wouldn't let them kill him. If she wanted him here, it was because he was valuable. And nothing could ever come between Amalea and a paycheck.

The brute sneered, which made Tony's smile widen. "You heard her, Franny."

Before he could even blink, the other two bastards were grabbing him and pulling him out of the trunk. He tried to struggle, but it didn't matter. They were bigger and stronger than he was. And the gun was still aimed between his eyes. He tried to keep his smile up, but the longer he was here, the harder it became.

Amalea stepped forward and fastened a metal collar around Tony's throat. It was tight; he felt it against his Adam's apple when he swallowed. "What's this?" he asked. "New jewelry?" They didn't have these when he was a kid.

Amalea stepped back and held up a small remote controller. Still grinning, she pressed a small purple button on the front of it.

Pain shot through Tony's body, starting from the collar. His knees buckled underneath him and his body writhed as electric current flowed through his veins. Amalea only held the button down for a few seconds, but even afterwards, he couldn't stop the convulsions, couldn't stop the foam from oozing out of his mouth.

"That," Amalea started, "is to make sure you behave. Can't have you running off again, now can we?"

Eventually, Tony stopped seizing. He lay on the ground, panting for breath. But the pain was still there. "You can't keep me here," he said through heavy breaths. "Somebody'll come looking for me."

He could only hope that was true.

But Amalea just laughed at him. She leaned down so she could look him in the eye better. "Tony. Where will your precious Gibbs even know where to look? You never told him about your childhood. You're fucked." She blew him a kiss before standing back up. "Get him up and take him to his room."

The two unarmed brutes grabbed him under his arms and hoisted him to his feet. Tony noted with only a little pleasure that Francis put his gun away. Not that it mattered much. The bastard looked like he could rip Tony in two with his bare hands.

When they started to drag him away, Tony started kicking and screaming. He tried everything he could to push them away. But all they did was pick him clean off his feet and carry him forward that way. Tony wailed. The two men pulled their heads away in pain, but Tony didn't care. It wasn't enough to get them to stop.

Ahead of him was the place he hated most in the world. It looked the same as it always did. Like Hell found its way onto Earth. The red bricks almost looked black in the lighting, wrought iron covered every window. But the vines that once made a path across the bricks were gone. Cut away to prevent any other daring escape attempts. A storm cloud loomed overhead, giving the place a clichéd horror movie feel.

"Welcome home," One of the brutes whispered in his ear.

Tony said a silent prayer to die in his sleep.

_**To Join the sweet, frivolous, futile sisters who  
>Bestow their love and sell their beauty<strong>_

Jethro looked around the room for what felt like the umpteenth time. There was nothing amiss, save for the shattered phone. But his gut wouldn't stop churning. Tony called him last night for a reason. He just didn't realize it.

He needed to figure out the truth about the tattoo. Was it a gang tat? Was Tony in a gang in his youth?

He tried to think back to the crime scene from yesterday. At the time, he was convinced that DiNozzo just caught the eye of a pretty girl, but now that he thought about it, he realized he was wrong.

There was fear on DiNozzo's face.

Jethro could have kicked himself for missing that. Could he be more of a selfish bastard? He thought that DiNozzo was acting weird all day because of their sexual encounter two days ago. But Jethro should have realized that the young man wasn't anxious, or feeling awkward. He was damn scared of something. But scared of what?

Kate came to stand next to him. "He's going to be OK, Gibbs," she said. Although Jethro wasn't sure if she was trying to calm him or herself.

"Did the neighbor get a look at the woman?"

She shook her head. "All she can remember is the woman's Caucasian wearing a fur coat. And I was lucky to get that info out of her." She sighed heavily, her eyes going to the floor for her next comment. "Tony's usually better at this than I am."

On a normal day, Jethro would have been shocked to hear Kate say that. The former Secret Service Agent never admitted that DiNozzo was better than her at something. It wasn't that she thought that DiNozzo was incompetent, she was smarter than that. But Kate was a woman in a typically male career, she had to be the best, and she had to learn quickly if she wanted to stay ahead.

But admitting that DiNozzo was better than her showed just how worried she really was.

Without a word, he left her standing alone in DiNozzo's living room and went to find the witness. Maybe he'd have better luck than Kate.

The witness was DiNozzo's seventy-six year old neighbor, Mrs. Wheatley. Widowed, three good-for-nothing kids. After he first introduced himself, Jethro got very acquainted with the old woman. She told him how she only ever saw her kids on holidays and special occasions, but DiNozzo liked to keep an eye on her. He'd check in with her if he got out of work at a reasonable time—Jethro earned a glare at that comment—fix things that were broken, wash her dishes, clean her house. Jethro had the urge to chuckle at the irony. DiNozzo had a maid to clean his own apartment, but he could clean somebody else's.

When Jethro was finally able to get her back on track, he couldn't get any more out of her than Kate did. He couldn't help but think how DiNozzo would have gotten an exact description, and even a few snippets of dialogue out of Mrs. Wheatley. Jethro never had any idea how DiNozzo managed to do it, but he was grateful for it. And now that DiNozzo was gone, he realized just how vital that talent was.

As he was heading back into the apartment, McGee stepped off the elevator and approached him. Jethro waited with bated breath to hear what the young man had to say. After they had arrived at DiNozzo's apartment, Jethro told McGee to find security cameras around the area to see if they could spot DiNozzo, hopefully alive and well.

But the look he saw on the young man's face was grim. Jethro cursed. He didn't have good news.

"The building doesn't have security cameras, and neither do any of the surrounding ones. Sorry, Boss."

Jethro silently cursed again. When they found DiNozzo, Jethro was going to personally put in a few cameras in and around the building. This was not going to happen again.

He made his way back inside and finished doing his job. Kate had already tagged everything in the room, so Jethro started taking photos of everything so it could all be bagged. After five minutes of silent working, McGee cleared his throat.

Jethro turned to glare at his youngest agent. McGee visibly wilted under his gaze. "Um, boss, I was just wondering what we're gonna do about, um, Pe-petty officer Jones." He took a step back, as if voicing the question was enough to get him a bullet in the ass.

Jethro wanted to scream out, _Fuck him, he's not important!_ But he somehow managed to hold his tongue. "His death might be related." Jethro didn't believe in coincidences. If Jones and Tony had the same tattoo, in the exact same spot, then there was a good chance the two incidents were connected.

He squashed any ideas about Tony lying dead on an autopsy table and finished working on processing the scene.

* * *

><p><strong>And now I feel like even more of a douche because nothing happens in this chapter. I hate computers sometimes. I really pray that I never have to do this to you guys again, and since this computer is brand new, it better last for a good long while. If it doesn't, then I'm swearing off technology and moving to the nudist colony in Hawaii. No, wait, that would just give people nightmares. Forget I ever said anything.<strong>

**Bob**


	6. 6

**So, as a head's up, I am going out of town this Wednesday, so I probably won't get the next chapter out until I get home. Fortunately, that's Thursday. But I really don't have anything else to ramble about. I just spent the last three days redoing my brother's new room (he just got himself an apartment, so I was making it look less crappy) so as I result, I'm flipping exhausted that I really just want to go to bed. But I will at least post this before I do.**

* * *

><p><strong>6<strong>

It was late in the afternoon before they made it back to the office. They put a BOLO out on DiNozzo, but so far no hits. Jethro checked every ten minutes and he knew that Kate and McGee checked in between that. He knew it was a bad idea. They still had a case to investigate and a killer to catch. And if the two crimes were intertwined, then they couldn't waste any time worrying.

After another minute, Jethro stood up. "Kate!" he barked.

She grabbed a file off her desk and moved to stand in front of his.

"Petty Officer Alvin Jones, age thirty-five, no family to speak of. I spoke to a few of the men in his unit, they all said that Jones was a loner, didn't talk to anybody and absolutely refused to talk about his childhood. Petty Officer Greg Peck," she halted for a moment, her eyes immediately went to DiNozzo's desk.

For the first time in a long time, Jethro decided to throw her a bone. "Gave you a speech about why you shouldn't kill a Mockingbird?"

Her eyes met his again with a small but warm smile. "No. He claimed that Jones attacked him once when he asked about his tattoo."

The team leader idly wondered what DiNozzo would have said if he was asked about it.

He nodded and turned his attention to his other agent. "McGee!"

The young man jumped before he got to his feet. "I've looked through Petty Officer Jones' financials, so far nothing looks out of the ordinary. Also, Boss," he moved closer till he was standing next to Kate. "I've been calling around, trying to see what the significance of the tattoo is."

Jethro shook his head. "Why?" He wasn't angry, he just had to know everything that McGee knew. And if he knew about Tony's tat for the same reason that he did.

McGee stuttered for another minutes before he finally answered. "Abby told me Tony has the same one."

Kate scrunched her eyebrows together in confusion. "I didn't know that Tony had a tattoo."

McGee turned to her with a shrug. "He probably didn't like talking about it anymore than Petty Officer Jones did." He turned back to his boss, even though it was obvious to both men that Kate wanted to argue about it more. "Which begs the question, why? I've called everyone I could think of, but this mark isn't on anybody's radar."

Kate shifted her feet. "Well, it can't be a coincidence that both Jones and Tony have the same tattoo. One winds up dead, and the other…" She trailed off, obviously still not comfortable with that particular thought.

Jethro turned his attention back to her. He needed her to focus completely on the case. "You said you only spoke to a few of Jones' unit."

Kate shook her head a bit to clear it—probably still thinking about DiNozzo—and then nodded. "Right. A few I'm still waiting for a call back from, and one hung up on me." She handed him the file. "Petty Officer Second Class Cooper Harris. Age thirty-seven. Used to be a Navy SEAL but transferred to teaching after he blew out his knee during basic training."

"He was never in combat?"

Kate shook her head again. "Not once."

That was confusing. A man had to be in prime physical shape to be a SEAL. They had to be the best at just about everything. So how did a doctor miss that he had a bad knee?

"There's more," Kate started to pull him out of his thoughts. "Petty Officer Harris continually requested job changes throughout his short career. He transferred to Norfolk less than a month ago. According to Petty Officer Peck, Jones met with a reporter two days before Harris requested the transfer. I haven't been able to find the reporter yet."

Jethro smirked for the first time since yesterday morning. "Give it to McGee." He pulled open the top drawer of his desk and grabbed his gun and badge. "You're with me."

He started walking for the elevator as he clipped his gun into place on his belt. Kate stopped by her own desk to grab her things before she followed. "Where are we going, Gibbs?"

"Norfolk. I wanna talk to Petty Officer Harris."

The lift dinged right before the doors slid open. The two of them climbed on in silence. Neither said a word as they made the agonizingly slow descent to the car garage.

_**Wait Before thou enter my returnless gate,  
>Whose folding-doors are mirrors<strong>_

Tony grudgingly made his way through the hallway. After they were finally inside the building, the thugs put him down. When he tried to break free, Francis pulled his gun back out and smacked him in the side of his head. After that, he was too woozy to fight back anymore.

The two unarmed thugs led the way in front of him while Francis took the rear, his gun pressed against the back of Tony's head to prevent any more escape attempts. He kept trying to think of ways to get out, but his head was pounding, blood was dripping in his eyes and he couldn't think straight. He knew an escape was futile. If he somehow managed to take out the guy with the gun, there were still two heavily muscled thugs and a shock collar in his way.

His mind kept going back to his time in the sewer with Gunnery Sergeant Atlas when his ex-girlfriend kidnapped them. He wouldn't let the Gunny give up, even though everything looked hopeless. Tony couldn't help but chuckle at the irony. Back then he fought like hell to get out of there, and now he was just giving up, just like he was a little boy again.

The two in front finally stopped. To their left was a heavy cherry wood door with intricate designs carved into the wood and embroidered with real gold. It was flashy and screamed unlimited funding. All Tony could think was _business is booming_.

The blonde brute pushed a button and the door slid open. Tony wanted to make some sort of pop culture reference, but he couldn't think of a single one. He blamed the possible concussion.

"Get in," said the blonde in a deep, but surprisingly nasally voice.

Tony smirked. "No thanks, I'm good here." That earned him another whack to the head with the pistol, sending him to the ground.

His vision blackened for the third time and his head throbbed even worse. The pain was too unbearable, and he nearly puked up his entire empty stomach. The only good thing was that he didn't pass out. He didn't want to think about what they would have done to him then.

He felt rather than saw two of the thugs lift his arms and drag him towards the room before dropping him face first onto the cold concrete floor.

He didn't move until he was sure that the three men were gone. When he heard the door swish closed he finally managed to pull himself up to look around.

Where the hallway was rich and luxurious, his room was cold and sparse. It felt like a prison cell. There were only two things worth mentioning. There was a bed that could really only be considered a cot, and a small open bathroom. That was the only luxury in the entire room. The vanity had an array of personal care products. Expensive hair care, face wash, blemish remover. Even an old fashioned straight razor and shaving cream.

Tony wished he could say that he was surprised. Except that he wasn't. They wanted him to look his best and you can't look your best with cheap, half-assed products.

He looked back towards the door and almost laughed. The other side was real, gold embroidered wood. On this side was bolted metal. Impossible to break through unless they tried to imprison Superman. Of course, knowing Amalea, she'd layer the door with Kryptonite if that were the case.

There were no windows, no way to escape. He was stuck here.

_**there descry Thy coming self**_

Norfolk Navy Base was the largest Naval Station in the world, able to house dozens of ships and aircraft at any given time. Norfolk was basically its own little town inside of a town, with hundreds of people living on the base. Petty Officer Alvin Jones was one of them, working as an aircraft mechanic. He had specifically requested a shore job after his last tour on a carrier. One of the other sailors committed suicide by diving off the stern of the ship. Jones had tried to talk him out of it.

The two agents were led by a seaman who looked barely old enough to shave, which was probably why he was given the grunt task of playing escort. Jethro kept looking for a tattoo like DiNozzo's and Jones', but the seaman's shirt collar was too tight around his neck.

The boy eventually stopped them at a glass door conveniently labeled 'gymnasium,' and stood at ease.

"It's their downtime, sir," he said by way of explanation.

Jethro just nodded. Normally he would have growled at being called 'sir,' but for once he decided to let it go. He had more important things to worry about than a title.

Kate led the way, seeing that she was holding the service photos of Jones' unit. She led them to a small group of men barely using the equipment they were hogging. Instead, they looked like a group of men who just lost a teammate.

"Petty Officer Peck?" Kate called out to the men.

A young man, probably around twenty-five, with brown hair and grey eyes, stepped forward. "Yes?" he asked.

The two agents pulled out their badges as Kate spoke. "I'm Special Agent Todd, NCIS, we spoke on the phone."

Peck nodded. "Right, was there something else you needed?"

"We just have a few follow up questions."

Jethro continued to listen with one ear as he scanned the room. He had seen Petty Officer Harris' service file, so he knew what he looked like. Now he just hoped the man decided to go to the gym today.

Harris probably didn't think that he was a suspect. If he was confident about that, he wouldn't try and hide, that would just put suspicion on him. No, he had to act as if nothing changed. As if he hadn't just shot a colleague and dumped his body in one of the most viewed places in the city without any witnesses. A guy like that was definitely cocky enough to work out after commiting murder.

That was something that had been bugging the agent. How did nobody see Harris dump the body? The reflecting pool wasn't exactly a nice, quiet, out of the way place. It was one of D.C.'s biggest tourist attractions. Yet nobody saw anything. And nobody tried to stop it. How?

Kate continued to ask the men about Jones. So far, they didn't tell her anything new. Loner, did his work but didn't really socialize. Seamen Ramirez, however, did say that he looked haunted about something all the time, although he didn't know what.

Everything that was said made Jethro's stomach roll around. He didn't like it. These men worked with Jones for years, but they barely knew anything about him. Sure, they were upset that he was dead, but in a few weeks, hell, in a few days, they would be completely over it and barely even think about Alvin Jones anymore. All of it made Jethro think about DiNozzo. How much did he really know about his Senior Field Agent? Sure, the younger man told him a few things over the years about his past, but, looking back on it, a lot of it seemed that DiNozzo was pulling a story out of his hat. When he told Jethro his mother died when he was a small boy, it lacked any sort of hurt that one would associate with losing a parent at such a young age. And when Jethro asked how old he was, it was almost as if he had to think of his answer.

He stopped thinking and listening at that point. He had found Harris.

The man had his back to him, but the agent still knew this was his guy. His workout was strenuous, his sweat making his muscle tee hang loosely on his back, which revealed a calligraphic X at the base of his spine.

He motioned to Kate to follow his lead. Then together, the two of them moved to confront their suspect.

"Petty Officer Harris?" he called out when they were a few feet away.

The man turned, revealing an attractive face with bright blue eyes, full lips and flawless skin. Harris spent a great deal of time grooming himself.

But when he saw two people who screamed 'cop' with every step they took, he panicked. He jumped off the machine and grabbed the first thing he could reach—a ten pound weight—and threw it at them.

Jethro screamed, "Duck!" as he dove out of the way, seconds before the weight landed at his feet. Harris took off running and the agent wasted no time before he chased after him.

Kate stayed only a step behind him, but Jethro couldn't worry about where she was headed. He kept his eyes trained on Harris, which way he twisted around. He was headed for the door, that much was certain. And he wouldn't hesitate to take down whoever got in his way. The man was a trained Navy SEAL. True, he never saw combat, but he had been trained to kill.

Most of the sailors gave Harris a wide berth, probably too stunned at what was happening to respond. It just fueled Jethro's anger. He screamed out, "Make a hole!" as he circled around to Harris' left.

Harris was a foot from the door when another sailor, big and bulky, punched him in the face, sending him to the ground.

Jethro knew immediately that Harris wasn't unconscious, and he still probably had a little fight left in him. The agent wasn't a fool. He was a trained Marine, but he was also older, and in public. There were too many variables here to risk a brawl.

When he saw the SEAL try to rise, he jammed his foot into Harris' chest and pulled his Sig Sauer out. He kept it trained between Harris' eyes, a grin on his face.

Kate moved next to him, her gun at the ready as well. Although it almost looked like she was aiming at her boss' foot. That was a bit concerning, but he wasn't going to yell at her. It wouldn't have taken any fear away from Harris.

The SEAL's eyes darted between the two of them as if contemplating his chances of breaking free and escaping.

"I wouldn't if I were you," Jethro said with a smirk. He looked deep in the Petty Officer's eyes to prove his point. He would shoot. He didn't want to, he was hoping this bastard could help him find his agent, but if he tried something, Jethro would have no problem putting a bullet in his brain.

Finally, after about a minute of staring and glaring, the SEAL sighed heavily and brought his hands up in surrender.

Kate hurled him to his feet while Jethro kept his eye on the man to make sure he didn't try anything. "Thanks, sailor," he said to the man who knocked Harris out in the first place.

The sailor just nodded, continuing to glare at Harris with an intensity that surprised the lead agent. He made a mental note to revisit it later, when Harris was booked and he had DiNozzo back. In the meantime, he still had a killer to process.

Harris grinned at him, like he knew a secret that the agents weren't privy to. "I'll be out by dinner time."

"Don't be so sure about that." Jethro finally put his gun away when his suspect was handcuffed and started to make his way out of the gymnasium. "You're not going anywhere until you tell me what happened to my agent," he whispered right next to Harris' ear.

But Harris just turned his head, that grin still spread across his lips. "Your agent," he started, 'or your lover?"

Jethro suppressed a growl as they walked out of the building.

* * *

><p><strong>So I tried toning down using their first names, as requested, and I hope that it helped. Thank you!<strong>

**Bob**


	7. 7

**So, tomorrow is my road trip, and hopefully, if all goes well, I will be going on another one on Friday (My dad moved back to his hometown for the summer so I'm going to give him a surprise visit for Father's Day) so you may not hear from me for the next week, at least until Monday or Tuesday. Just a head's up.**

**Also, I keep forgetting but for anybody who is interested, there is a poll up on my profile about continuing on with the Slaughter House series (I question whether I should bother now that Baltimore has aired) so, if anyone would like to see it continued, or not, the poll is on my profile and will be open until this story is completed. And now we move forwards.**

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><p><strong>7<strong>

Jethro stared at the photo on his desk for the tenth time, trying to figure out what it meant. Harris almost had the exact same tattoo as Jones and DiNozzo, with one exception. His agent and their dead sailor had an X on their back, but Harris had a long sideways 'S' sort of thing underneath.

He knew that the key to finding DiNozzo was in the tattoo. He just didn't know what it meant. McGee and Abby hadn't been able to find a connection yet, or a gang affiliation.

After putting the cuffs on their killer, Jethro and Kate went through his house. It wasn't long until they found his service weapon. They brought it back with them and hopefully, Abby would have the results soon.

Kate stood before his desk, that look of worry still plastered all over her face. She had been wearing it consistently since they found out DiNozzo was gone. "Yeah?" he asked, at the end of his patience. He'd been staring at the same photo for the last hour and so far had no luck deciphering its meaning.

"Petty Officer Harris is all set in Interrogation Room One."

He nodded, but he didn't move out of his seat. He kept thinking of Harris' smile when they led him off the base. He wasn't going to talk, not until Jethro had more on him.

Not that he was happy about it. He hated sitting around doing nothing while his agent was missing. He had no idea if DiNozzo was still alive, and even if he did, he had no idea on how to find him.

"Boss!"

For a second, his breath hitched, imagining DiNozzo come strolling into the bullpen, perfectly fine, but apologizing profusely for being late, even if he only half-meant it.

But his hopes were dashed when he saw McGee striding towards him. Then his heart sank as he saw the look of panic on the young man's face. His mind automatically went to the worst scenario.

Somebody found Tony's body. He'd been dead for two days. They were too late.

"Boss, you know I've been looking up the significance of the tattoo with Abby?"

Jethro grew frustrated the longer McGee spoke, yet at the same time he was grateful, his agent wasn't dead. At least, not that he heard. "Yeah." He was barely able to control his anger with that simple word.

"I finally found something." He paused, either for dramatic effect or because what he was saying was really that terrible. But after Jethro heard what McGee had to say, he figured it out for himself.

"So far, I found twenty other victims who had that same tattoo. And, Petty Officer Harris was stationed in every city they were killed. Or he was vacationing there."

Jethro silently fumed, but Kate voiced her disgust first. "Nobody thought to question him?" She asked.

McGee nodded. "He was questioned several times, but somehow all the cases went cold."

That was slightly confusing. How were none of these people able to figure out that Harris was a killer? The tattoo on his back was a direct connection to all of the victims. "How many were in the Navy?" he finally asked. He refused to believe that his agency, that his colleagues, would repeatedly let a killer go free.

McGee nervously nodded his head. Jethro noticed that whenever the Probie was nervous, he turned into a bobble-head. "Only Petty Officer Jones. The others were civilians. But I did talk to the LEOs who investigated. Every one of these people were described the same way. They were shy, quiet loner types who always seemed to their friends like they were hiding something."

"Well that doesn't sound anything like DiNozzo," Kate said. The words and tone were harsh, the way she usually spoke to the man in question. But Jethro noted a hint of hope on her face. She probably thought the way that he did. DiNozzo wasn't like the murder victims, which meant that he might not be dead. Harris, hopefully, hadn't come after his agent.

But he knew it was still a long shot.

He couldn't wait anymore. He had been sitting around long enough, waiting. He was done with that.

Jethro grabbed the files from McGee and stormed into the interrogation room.

Harris had barely moved; he just sat there with that same grin on his face, like he knew something Jethro didn't. His hands were under the table where they had been cuffed. He may never have been in combat, but he was a SEAL, and he definitely knew how to kill. But Jethro wasn't someone easily bullied. No matter what Harris thought, he wasn't walking out of here without telling Jethro where to find DiNozzo.

He sat down across from his suspect and started spreading out the pictures from the file McGee gave him. The more he looked, the sicker his stomach felt. Some of these people—men and women—looked like they were barely out of high school. All of them died from a single gunshot wound to the chest. And every single one of them had a tattoo on their backs, just beneath where their shoulders met their necks.

He looked up with a blank expression on his face and stared at the bastard opposite him. Inside he was seething. Harris killed at least twenty-one people in cold blood, and he couldn't even feign disgust.

Harris shrugged. "So?"

Jethro stayed silent.

Harris chuckled. "Am I supposed to be afraid or something?"

"You tell me," he said. Harris barely responded. Jethro started playing with the photos. "Every one of these people was killed with a Beretta M9 pistol. You carry one of those, don't you?"

The bastard had the nerve to chuckle again. "So does every single person in the military, is that really all you got on me?"

"All killed," Jethro lowered his eyes and focused on the photos, "in a different city across the country. And every time, you were either stationed there, or vacationing, at the time of the murder."

"So were hundreds of other people. Come on, Agent Gibbs, you got nothing on me!"

"Hundreds of other people don't have the same tattoo as all the victims." Jethro did everything that he could think of to keep his voice neutral, despite how desperately he wanted to beat this bastard to a pulp.

Harris shrugged again. "Coincidences."

The agent shook his head. "I don't believe in coincidences." He leaned closer to the suspect and whispered, "My agents searched your home, and they found your gun. It's being processed in our ballistics lab downstairs as we speak. And it will match the slugs pulled out of all twenty-one victims, including Petty Officer Jones, the man you gunned down two nights ago and dumped at a national monument. And when it does, you will spend the rest of your life in Leavenworth. And I will do everything in my power to ensure that it's in solitary confinement. But," he pulled out a picture of DiNozzo, "if you tell me how to find this man, I could talk to a judge, and maybe get you a deal." It wasn't a lie. He could easily talk to a judge. But that didn't mean that he would.

Harris leaned closer, mimicking the agent, that smile still spread across his mouth. "Even if I had killed all those people, and I'm not saying that I did, I will never see the inside of a courtroom." He leaned back in his chair, folded his arms across his chest and stared down at the photos on the table. It was his silent way of telling Jethro that he was done talking.

But he wasn't planning on going anywhere until he knew exactly where his missing agent was. He was done playing strong silent, now he was going for the throat.

He was about to slam his fist on the table when the door opened. He turned to yell at one of his idiot agents who had the nerve to interrupt an interrogation, but the man he saw didn't work for him. And judging by the visitor's badge stuck to his overly expensive tailored suit, he wasn't an agent at all.

"My client's done talking, Agent Gibbs."

Jethro groaned. A lawyer. He hated lawyers.

"He's not going anywhere," he said with the last vestiges of his patience.

The lawyer chuckled. "You have no evidence!"

"We will."

The lawyer nodded condescendingly. "Well, until you do—" he was cut off by the sound of Jethro's cell phone.

"Yeah Abs, what do ya got?" He asked when he answered. He hadn't checked his caller I.D. when he flipped it open, so he was winging who it was. But it didn't really matter; he watched the way the lawyer tensed when he picked up the phone.

The fact that it actually was Abby calling him was just a bonus.

"Got it, thanks Abs." He hung up. Now he was the one smiling. He turned to the lawyer. "Your client's gun is a match for the murder weapon." He couldn't help the smug look that made its way across his features.

The lawyer turned to glare daggers at his client. He knew that Jethro had him. There was no way that Harris was walking out of here.

After a minute of glaring he turned back to the agent. "I need a moment with my client. In private."

Jethro nodded. There wasn't much he could do about that. But as long as he knew that Harris wasn't going anywhere, he figured he could spare a few minutes.

Harris still hadn't quit smiling. For some reason, he was still convinced that he was walking out of here. Jethro almost snorted. Fat chance of that happening.

He walked out of the room to see Kate standing there, her worry now mixed with regret and shame.

"I'm sorry Gibbs, I couldn't stop him."

"Abby called, she was able to match the gun." It was the first piece of good news he heard since he found out DiNozzo was missing.

That elated her. "Well that's it then. Make a deal with him, get him to tell us where Tony is."

He almost admitted that he already tried that, but decided against it at the moment. It might have been too much of a shock for her already fragile state. Normally, he didn't make deals, and a guy like Harris, who killed twenty-one innocent people in cold blood, didn't deserve a deal. But right now, all he cared about was getting his agent back. If that meant making a deal, then he'd do it.

"Stop! Stop! Help me! Help me!"

Jethro heard the scream from the interrogation room. It sounded like Harris.

The agent felt his gut clench before he slammed his shoulder into the door, but it wouldn't budge. Someone had locked the fucking thing from the inside.

"Gibbs!" Kate called from his left. When he jerked his head around, he saw her at the entrance of the Observation Room. She was panting and her face was wild with fear. He ran towards her and crossed the threshold into the room.

His stomach dropped down to his toes as he saw the sight before him.

Harris was dead, his eyes wide open, frozen in fear, slumped in his seat. His wrists were still cuffed under the table. Jethro could clearly make out the broken bones in his neck. His neck was snapped.

The lawyer moved quickly. He killed Harris only a few seconds ago and still managed to commit suicide. He had wrapped his belt around his throat with the other end wrapped around the door knob. When he sat down, he began to suffocate himself. Jethro could do nothing but watch as the life slowly left the man's body.

When the attorney finally stilled, he whirled around on the camera operator. He didn't move, just stared at his monitor in horror. It all just made Jethro angrier.

"Why the hell didn't you call me?" He shouted, causing the idiot to whirl around with a jump.

The operator, a blonde man with more pimples than the average teenager, tried to stumble out an answer, but couldn't get past random vowels.

Jethro finally cut him off. He had no patience to begin with; now he was ready to shoot everyone in the room. "You could have saved him! If you just got off your ass—"

Kate stepped in front of him, blocking him from attacking the operator. It wasn't until that moment that he realized he was moving forward. He was too blinded with rage. "Gibbs, Gibbs!" She cut off his shouts. "We need to focus on finding Tony, not—"

He cut her off with a growl. "We're not gonna find DiNozzo!" He pulled out of her grasp, suddenly angry at his female agent for her calmness. He turned one final glare to the operator. "He just let our only lead die!" Before anything else could be said, he walked out of the room.

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><p><strong>Sorry Gibbs didn't break him, but um, then the story would be ended so much faster, and I have the habit of drawing things out. Well, I hope you liked it, other than the evil ways of the author.<strong>

**Bob**


	8. 8

**So, I'm back from my trip and I have no voice. Seriously, it is completely gone. But I have to say, it was totally worth it, I was two feet away from Nick Carter and A.J. McClean and Brian Littrell waved to me! *Squeel* **

**So, the next chapter will probably be posted either by Monday or Tuesday, and I say that because tomorrow I'm going on my second road trip to surprise my dad for Father's Day, and I'm coming back home on Monday, so if I'm not too exhausted, I will get the next chapter up then, otherwise, it might be on Tuesday, but it shouldnt' be too much longer than that.**

**Also, somebody reviewed and asked how many chapters there will be. While I don't have an exact number, I'm thinking that it will probably be my average length, so somewhere from 21-26 or so with a possible epilogue. And while I can't share all of my secrets for this story, I will say this, there are other ways to hurt somebody than to kill them off.**

**And since this chapter is the big reveal, I'm going to quit talking.**

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><p><strong>8 <strong>

Fury bubbled inside him, and he couldn't decide who he was angrier at: the operator for letting his lead die in interrogation, Harris for killing a sailor and then getting killed before he talked, the lawyer for killing his only lead, Tony for getting kidnapped—a federal fucking agent should have had more sense than that—or Morrow, for calling him into his office when he could have been looking for his agent.

Tom Morrow had always been a good guy, and Jethro had nothing but the utmost respect for the man, but he had a feeling that their usual friendship wouldn't do him any favors this time.

Morrow shook with anger; unable to sit, he leaned against his desk with his head down. But even from the poor angle, Jethro could clearly see the clenched jaw and the throbbing vein in his temple and even a hint of flared nostrils.

"You let your suspect die in interrogation." Morrow finally said. Jethro didn't try to argue. He was team leader; he should have kept a better watch on his killer. "A suspect you claim might have had information on a missing agent."

"We weren't certain of that, sir."

The director finally looked up, his eyes practically on fire. "And I guess you never will be." He shook his head in confusion. "How did he even lock the door from the inside?"

That was a good question. And Jethro actually had an answer for once. "The lawyer, Adam Locke, brought in a rubber door stopper. It wasn't picked up by the metal detectors. He planned this before he even walked into that room, Sir."

Morrow looked up at him, still angry. "You think that makes a difference?" He pushed off the desk and moved into Jethro's personal space.

"Jethro, I like you," he began. "But I like that kid of yours more."

The agent ignored the 'kid of yours' comment and wondered about the rest of it. He wasn't aware that Morrow and DiNozzo were that close. A flash of jealousy hit him as he imagined the two of them in bed together.

"He has your talents as an investigator, without pissing off every bureaucrat he comes across."

Morrow's words should have calmed him, but he still couldn't stop thinking that he added it as an afterthought to cover his tracks. He no longer had any doubt that Morrow had bedded his agent.

He squashed the feeling of jealousy that once again slammed into him. As much as he hated finding out that he had Morrow's sloppy seconds, he still had a missing agent to find and no new leads to help him.

"Sir, I'm going to find him."

Morrow looked him straight in the eye with a dangerous glint. "You better. And do it soon, or the FBI's gonna be on your ass."

He sat back in his chair, cueing Jethro that it was time to leave. But as he was walking away, he couldn't deny the look of complete worry on his friend and boss' face.

Fury boiled through his veins. He always knew that DiNozzo was a slut, but he couldn't believe that he would let Morrow fuck him before he even tried with him.

Jethro was human, he wasn't immune to a beautiful body, and DiNozzo had one hell of a beautiful body. He sure as hell wouldn't have turned away if DiNozzo had kissed him sooner, or even without alcohol in his system. Yet the young man slept with _Morrow_ first?

He couldn't understand it. Couldn't fathom how an old family man like Tom Morrow could kindle a fire in DiNozzo's loins before him.

As he made his way down the stairs, his mind a whirlwind of thoughts, McGee rushed up and met him halfway. "Boss, somebody dropped this off for you." McGee handed him a small envelope, like one you'd find a 'Thank-You' card in.

"Who dropped it off?" he asked as he ripped it open. He couldn't think of anyone who would owe him a thank you.

"A messenger," replied the young agent. "He didn't say who it was from."

Jethro pulled out what was definitely not a card. It was a torn piece of computer paper. He held it at arm's length to read the words, and even then it was a struggle. He hated getting old. Secretly, he was jealous of DiNozzo and his 20/10 eyesight. By the time he got to Jethro's age, he still probably wouldn't have a problem.

When his sight finally adjusted to the small handwriting on the page, his confusion grew. The note was short, only three lines, scribbled down in haste to the point they were pretty much illegible.

_MCIS not safer_

_Go hone_

_Cone aloae_

After a second or two, he shoved the note in his pocket and made his way down the rest of the stairs. He first stopped by his desk to grab his badge and gun.

Kate, wearing a look that was a mixture of worry and excitement, jumped up and grabbed her coat.

"Kate," he called.

She stopped, uncertain. "Yes Gibbs?"

"Stay here. Find me another link to Harris." He stepped onto the elevator the moment it arrived and made his way down to the parking garage. The entire way home, his mind kept playing through all the possible scenarios that were possibly waiting for him. The most hopeful situation had DiNozzo waiting for him on his couch, chowing down on the T-bone he had in the refrigerator. But that was also the most unlikely. DiNozzo wasn't dumb enough to steal a steak from him out of his own fridge. Jethro also knew the young man's handwriting, spelling errors and all, and he knew for a fact that whoever wrote that note was not DiNozzo.

After about twenty minutes, he pulled into his driveway and turned off his car. His eyes scanned the street to ensure for the last time that he hadn't been followed. He had subconsciously checked through the entire drive, but now that he was home, he just took one final sweep. He was safe.

When he stepped through the front door, he made sure his gun was raised and his safety off. He started to clear the living room before moving through the rest of the first floor. When that was cleared, he made his way upstairs. Still, he found no one. The house was completely empty.

His gut twisted. Anybody who knew him knew that he spent most of his free time in his basement. DiNozzo knew that better than anybody. Yet again, his mind went to the scenario that his Senior Field Agent was safe. Scared, maybe, but safe.

He raised his gun again and slowly made his way down the stairs to the basement. No matter how hard he tried, his bare wooden stairs were too old; he couldn't help but make noises as he descended.

His hopes were dashed once more when he saw the bulky sailor from earlier. The one who knocked out Harris. He no longer looked angry; actually, he looked scared as all hell.

Jethro noted that he too was an attractive man, around DiNozzo's age. His skin was a dark chocolate color that contrasted beautifully with his light green eyes. Just enough light poured into the small space to accentuate his high cheek bones and strong jaw line. "I expected you here sooner."

Jethro shrugged. "Took me a while to decipher your message." He held up the note that was nothing more than chicken scratch.

But the sailor ignored him. "Were you followed?"

Jethro shook his head. "No."

"Are you sure?"

It was Jethro's turn to ignore him. "Wanna tell me your name?" He wanted to know what this impromptu meeting was about and if it had anything to do with his missing agent. If it didn't, then he wanted to know sooner rather than later so he could get back to work and focus on his job.

The sailor looked around the basement. The agent's eyes scanned the room as well. He noticed that his workbench had been practically taken apart. All of his tools had been strewn around, as if the sailor had been looking for something. The agent suppressed his annoyance. For now.

"Petty Officer Darryl Whitmore," was all the sailor said.

Jethro nodded. "Why are you in my house?"

"NCIS isn't safe."

This time, he couldn't suppress his annoyance as he answered sarcastically, "Yeah. I was able to decipher that from your message. Why isn't it safe?" He stepped off the stairs and approached the intruder.

Whitmore turned to him, his eyes ablaze with a wild look. "Because they're watching."

Jethro could have groaned. He couldn't believe that he actually answered a note from a deranged Petty Officer. He could believe even less that a deranged sailor was in his house. "Who's watching?" He couldn't figure out why he was asking, but he needed to know that his time wasn't completely wasted.

"Them!"

Jethro waited for words like "The man," or "Big Brother" or whatever else crazy people were sprouting out these days.

He stepped even closer; Whitmore took a step back, his eyes shooting to the floor. "Whitmore, if you don't tell me what you're doing in my house, really, I'm putting you in handcuffs and walking out of here."

He couldn't take anymore. First DiNozzo gets kidnapped, then his chief suspect was murdered in interrogation, and now this. He was stuck in his basement with a lunatic.

Whitmore still kept his eyes off the agent. He just kept checking the room like he was looking for bugs or something. "Alvin wanted to go to the media, break the whole thing wide open. I knew it was a bad idea, I knew this was going to happen. I knew they would kill him."

Jethro's gut started churning. He knew that something bad was about to happen, he just didn't know what, or how. "Petty Officer—"

He stopped short. Whitmore must have decided that the room was clear because he turned his back on Jethro and lowered his shirt collar. He could have groaned. He was getting sick of that stupid X tattoo. So many people had one and he didn't even know what it meant. If it meant anything at all.

"I knew your agent." Jethro tensed at Whitmore's words. He said "knew," not "know." Either the two only knew each other when they were younger, or Whitmore knew that DiNozzo was dead. "He saved my life when we were younger."

He turned around with a grim look on his face. Jethro stepped closer with anger boiling over in his soul. "Why don't you try telling me something helpful, Petty Officer?" If Whitmore kept talking in fragment sentences and hidden messages, he was going to grab his gun and shoot him.

Whitmore sighed heavily in defeat. Even though it was obvious he was consenting, he didn't look happy about it. "My tattoo means that I was never bought." Jethro's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. He had to admit, he was not expecting that. He could have handled a lot of things. A gang, a contract on their heads, heck a serial killer who branded his victims before he killed them. But he didn't know what to make of this. Whitmore continued, "It's a brand for a sex slavery ring."

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><p><strong>For the record, the note Whitmore sent Gibbs was on purpose, I scribbled down the message really quickly and copied what it looked like afterwards. So, raise your hands, who saw that one coming?<strong>

**Bob**


	9. 9

**So I am back! And can I just say? Old men and golfing! Seriously! I drove 6 hours to surprise my father for Father's Day after he hasn't seen me-ME! His youngest child and his only daughter-in over a month, and what does he do? He tees off. Tells me to wait for him to finish his dang game! MEN!**

**Sorry, but that's bugged me all week. Now, as for this chapter, I know you all have questions, and a lot of them will be answered either below or the next chapter. Be patient. But just so you know, just because questions are being answered doesn't mean the road's going to be getting easier. You'll see what I mean.**

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><p><strong>9<strong>

He kept replaying what he heard over and over in his head, sure that he got something wrong. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized he had it right. Whitmore really said "sex slavery ring."

Jethro shook his head. "What?"

Whitmore sighed heavily. "Believe me, if I hadn't lived through it, I wouldn't believe it either."

That didn't help Jethro's confusion. "A sex slavery ring?"

The sailor nodded, but otherwise didn't say anything.

The agent suddenly lost his ability to stand. As the words started to sink in, the more he thought about DiNozzo and what he really went through. "Why don't you start from the beginning?"

"Can I trust you?"

"What?"

Whitmore stepped forward, panicked again. "I need to know that if I talk to you, you won't sell me out!"

Jethro jumped up, his anger boiling over again. It took all of his willpower not to pull his gun and attack the man. "Hey! You're in my house, your friend is dead, my agent's missing, Harris is dead and you wanna hold back now?"

"I need to trust that I'm safe!"

"If you don't start talking, I will kill you myself! You can trust that." He gave Whitmore the hardest glare that he could muster. Considering his anger and how his normal glare could make even the toughest criminals break, he liked to think it was pretty damn scary.

For a while, the two just stared at each other, just sizing the other up. Jethro already decided that if Whitmore didn't start talking soon, he would make him. Most likely with a bullet in the thigh.

After five minutes, at least, Whitmore finally looked away, giving in. He sat down on one of the saw horses. "I was raised in foster care until I was six, when my foster mom sold me to Daddy." He chuckled bitterly. "That's what he made us call him, Daddy, as if what he did to us wasn't sick enough."

Jethro sat down on the other saw horse and listened to everything that he was learning. The more he heard, the angrier he became. He was furious with these people, and ever more furious with DiNozzo for not telling him. Didn't the younger man trust him? Or did he actually believe that his boss would sell him out? He was stupid. All of this could have been prevented if DiNozzo just had the balls to come to him.

Whitmore kept going, completely oblivious to his inner rage. "When we were maybe fourteen or fifteen, Tony got the idea to run away. One night, we attacked our guards and shimmied down a vine next to our window. We must have run for three days straight when we got separated. Until today, I never knew what happened to him." He chuckled again. "A federal agent. It figures."

Jethro shook his head. "Why didn't you ever come forward?"

Whitmore chuckled once again. "You've been working this case for two days and you have to ask? Everybody who even tries to talk about it gets killed. That was Harris' job. Whenever somebody tried to talk, they sent Harris in to eliminate the problem." He shook his head. "I've been free for twenty years, but even still, I heard the stories. I just never knew who their killer was. Nobody did. Alvin thought he was just a superstition, made up to scare us from talking. Then he got killed and you arrested Harris at the gym today."

Jethro thought about that for a moment. "Harris' tattoo was different than yours. He had a sideways S thing under the X. Does that mean he was an assassin?"

The sailor shook his head again. "That means he was owned. Some of the more arrogant assholes like to include their names in the new mark, but because of Harris' job, his owner prolly realized that was a bad idea. It Harris ever got caught, then he wouldn't want to be connected to him. Or the ring."

"He made him join the Navy, didn't he?"

Whitmore shrugged. "Most likely. But I haven't been involved in the ring since I was a kid. I have no idea what goes on behind those walls anymore."

Jethro shook his head to clear it. "How would they know that somebody was trying to talk?"

With a heavy sigh, Whitmore stood up and started pacing again. "The ring has people all over the country, in the media, the government. No police department in the U.S of goddamn A doesn't have a mole in it. They're all over. When someone tries to talk, it always gets back to the ring, back to Daddy," he paused for a moment, as if his words physically pained him, "and they call Harris."

"Harris is dead, you don't have to worry about him anymore."

The sailor actually had the nerve to hark with laughter. "You really think that because Harris is dead then the problem's over? I got news for you, Agent Gibbs. The ring's been in operation for at least sixty years. Did Harris really look like a sixty year old man to you?"

Jethro grew shocked. Understanding hit him right in the gut, sending bile up his throat. This 'ring' must have killed Harris to stop him from talking. They were protecting themselves. They wouldn't do that unless they already had somebody to replace him.

And DiNozzo was right in the middle of it.

"Where would they have taken DiNozzo?"

Whitmore shrugged. "If he's lucky, then they killed him."

Jethro really didn't know if he considered that 'lucky,' not that it mattered, "The last word I'd ever use to describe Tony DiNozzo is 'lucky.'"

A look of confusion crossed Whitmore's face before he answered. Jethro decided to remember it for later. "Then they'll take him back to the compound. Unless, by some miracle, he got ugly since I last saw him."

Jethro didn't answer. He let his silence do the talking. Whitmore got the message loud and clear. DiNozzo was anything but ugly. He was still beautiful. Better than beautiful. He was positively gorgeous that even today no one would turn him down for sex if they had half a libido. "What are they going to do to him?"

Whitmore averted his gaze. Jethro got the hint.

_**Thy coming self, thou who art tempted by  
>The gold<strong>_

She paced back and forth in her office, too furious to stop moving.

Cooper Harris was an idiot. What kind of moron uses his own service weapon—his _service_ weapon—to kill somebody just to leave the body behind? At one of the most crowded tourist attractions in D.C.! Amalea was starting to think that Harris _wanted_ to get caught. She just couldn't think why. Was he really that selfish? His stupid stunt cost her two good dependents. More importantly, it pissed off two clients. Jerry didn't want his property to be turned into the Ring's assassin, Daddy had managed to talk him into it, and now he was going to say that Amalea couldn't handle running a big business like this.

And then there was Casey Donnelly, the Ring's personal attorney.

She wasn't as worried about Casey. Unlike Jerry, Casey didn't pay for his dependent. Adam was a gift, mostly to keep Casey's mouth shut—he kept acting like he had morals, if anybody could believe that. But Casey didn't lose any money on Adam's death, Jerry lost plenty.

She broke her musings temporarily and turned towards Francis. "Call up Director Samson, tell him we need to activate Kort." Just because she lost one assassin didn't mean she didn't have a back-up plan already in place.

Amalea was the one who personally went to Samson and asked to use his dependent as the back-up in case Harris fucked up. She always thought that a CIA operative would make a better assassin than a Navy SEAL. True, being a SEAL meant that he was trained to kill, but the CIA would have covered it better. Samson had only been too happy to help the Ring. To date, he bought four dependants. Kort happened to be his least favorite—he was usually too cocky for Samson's tastes.

Francis spoke up, "Ma'am, after what happened with Harris, I'm not sure Samson will agree."

Her eyes ablaze with fury, Amalea snapped, "Make him!"

This time, that oaf was smart. With a nod, he left the room to make the call.

Unfortunately, as soon as he was gone, Casey Donnelly walked in. Amalea groaned; she didn't want to deal with this just yet.

"We need to talk, Amalea," he said as he stood in front of her in what she dubbed a Superman pose. Feet shoulder width apart, hands on his hips, shoulders back and chin raised. He was trying to intimidate her, apparently still not realizing that Amalea didn't intimidate easily. She grew up in this place, grew up with Daddy. Everything she knew, she learned from him, but he was still far more ruthless than her. It made her thick skinned. "I'm sorry about Adam," she said instead, "but he knew what was going to happen when he killed Cooper Harris in a federal agency." She turned her back on Casey, dismissing him. Not that he got the hint. For a lawyer, he was truly deeply stupid.

He stepped into her path, still trying to intimidate her. "You owe me."

She scoffed. "No, I don't."

"Adam was my property!"

"He was a gift that cost me money, why would I sacrifice a profit again because you couldn't take care of your dependent?"

Casey stepped further into her personal space, his nose blowing thick air onto her face. "Because I sacrificed my property to protect you and your incompetence—"

She cut him off with a slap. "Talk to me that way again, and I will kill you myself!"

Casey's face twisted into a sickening grin. "You really have a high opinion of yourself, considering how a few short years ago, you were no better than those pieces of shit you try to sell us."

Amalea's hand itched to reach up and scratch the tattoos on her back. Even now, she resented her poor background, but she refused to let a bastard like Casey Donnelly know that.

"You want a new dependent?" She asked with a sweet smile before it turned into a glare. She pushed him back and shouted, "Then pay for it!"

Casey's eyes widened in shock at her outburst. She didn't care. "And get the fuck out of my office!" She pointed to the door to emphasize her point.

Still Casey refused to leave. His shock disintegrated into anger again. "If you won't give me a new dependent, I want a discount."

She laughed. "You'll have to pay the same price as everybody else."

"I don't want to wait until the end of the month, I want a new dependent now! At a discounted price."

Amalea grew tired talking to this prick. She always did. She hated Daddy for not finding a different attorney in the first place. Casey was just too much hassle. "Which one?" She asked, hoping that she could get rid of him until she actually needed him again. Maybe if she gave him one of the older dependents no longer up for sale—like Adam was—he'd leave her alone to sort out her more important problems.

"You know damn well which one I want!"

She shook her head. "That's not going to happen."

"Damn it, Amalea!" he screamed, "What the hell kind of price do you think you're gonna get for a dependent that old? Nobody wants a fucking grandfather to fuck!"

"If you want him that badly, then wait until the end of the month and make a bid. Otherwise, pick somebody else."

"For fuck's sake, Amalea—"

She cut him off. "Either pick someone else, or wait until the month's over and buy him then. Those are your options. Now get the fuck out of my office."

With a final glare, he stormed out. Suddenly drained, Amalea plopped down behind her desk and rested her head in her hands. This was just a complete mess all the way around and she didn't think she could handle anymore. If one more thing went wrong, she didn't know what she would do.

Her thoughts were cut off when Francis returned. She tried to appear as confident as she normally did. "Did Samson agree to loan out Kort?"

Francis nodded. "And I know the perfect test run to give him." She waited all of three seconds before she snapped at him to tell her. "According to our sources at Norfolk, Jones had a friend, another escapee. Darryl Whitmore."

She paled a bit. She remembered Darryl. He and Tony were thick as thieves when they were here. They also escaped together. Her feelings of shock transformed into ones of glee. She gave the nod.

Amalea always loved killing two birds with one stone.

"There's something else," Francis started, clearly a little nervous. "The new guy, Tony."

Amalea nodded. "What's he doing now?"

"He went after three guards with his straight razor. He's out of control—"

"Do what you have to," said Amalea with a heavy breath. She leaned back in her chair, grateful that the current problem was an easy one. "Just don't mark him. His skin needs to be flawless."

Francis nodded. "Madam, if it's ok, I think that this one needs… Tough Love."

A chill ran down her spine. She remembered Tough Love. It scared her as a child, made her want to be the best she could be so she didn't need it. As an adult, she often contemplated getting rid of Tough Love because of her childhood feelings, but eventually realized how necessary it was for times like now.

She couldn't think of a better punishment for Tony 'DiNozzo.'

Again, she gave her nod. Francis gave a quick bow of his head before he exited. Amalea couldn't ignore the smug grin on his lips. She knew he was going to enjoy this. Greatly.

* * *

><p><strong>Ok, so not all questions were answered, and I probably just made a few new ones, but if you keep reading, I promise it will all make sense eventually.<strong>

**Bob**


	10. 10

**Ok, so I guess my warnings at the first chapter were more vague than I intended, but this story is ANGSTY. We just found out that Tony was raised in a sex slavery ring and things WILL get WORSE from here on out. And I'm putting it in caps in case anyone doesn't read my AN's will hopefully notice the bigger print. I'm sorry if I wasn't clear before, but I want you to know, this story is intended to get worse before it gets better.**

**Also, this chapter has a lot to do with Tony and his past, and it's meant to be ANGSTY and yes, I'm still going to caps lock all those words. Keep in mind, this is NOT a PLEASANT chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>10<strong>

Bile rose up Jethro's throat when Whitmore told him what DiNozzo might be facing. He couldn't believe he was thinking it, but Whitmore was right; lucky would be if they killed DiNozzo on the spot.

"How long do I have?" He needed to know how long he had until he lost DiNozzo forever.

Whitmore wiped the sweat off his forehead. "Until the end of the month."

That was another blow that Jethro didn't think he could handle. "That's in ten days." How was he supposed to find these people in ten days when they could be in any part of the country? He had no clue. Whitmore couldn't tell him anything about where DiNozzo was. He didn't even remember the state.

Once again, he found himself missing DiNozzo's little talents. He certainly would have been able to pull a few details out of Whitmore. He would have gotten an exact trail and an exact location out of the sailor. Jethro didn't have that talent. Neither did any of his other employees.

But sitting around here with a deadline quickly approaching wasn't helping him. He stood up and pulled out his cell phone. He needed to call Kate, explain what they were looking at. Maybe she could figure out the best way to locate DiNozzo.

But Whitmore grabbed his wrist before he could finish dialing. Jethro hadn't even realized that he moved. "What are you doing?" he asked, panic-stricken yet again.

"Calling my team." He said it like it was obvious. Which it pretty much was.

But Whitmore frantically shook his head. "You can't. Nobody else can know about this!"

"They need to know!"

"I risked my life telling you all of this; the more people that know, the better the chance that I die!"

Jethro pulled his wrist out of Whitmore's grasp and pulled his gun. He lost all self-control. Now he was moving solely on anger and desperation. Not that he cared. DiNozzo was his Senior Field Agent, and he meant more to the older man than this sailor who he barely knew.

Whitmore moved away from the gun as far as the basement would allow. But every step he took, Jethro followed. "I got a missing agent that I have ten days to find. I don't give a fuck about you or your life right now. What matters is finding DiNozzo alive. Am I clear?"

Whitmore's Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed. "Yes sir."

Jethro finally lowered his gun. "Don't 'sir' me." He grabbed his cell phone again and dialed Kate. This time, Whitmore didn't stop him.

"Todd," she said when she picked up.

"Get McGee, meet me at my house."

Kate was silent for a moment as she processed what he said. "Um, Gibbs—"

He cut her off. "I need someplace secure; I got a lead on how to find DiNozzo."

"Really?" He could literally hear the hope rising in her voice.

"Yes! Now you and McGee get your butts over here now!" He hung up before she could argue with him more. He turned around to see Whitmore looking like he was about to be sick.

"Are they coming?" he asked.

Jethro nodded. "They'll be here soon."

Whitmore nodded. "Do you trust them?"

Jethro glared at the sailor. "More than you."

The two of them were silent as they waited for the two agents to arrive. The silence was deafening, suffocating. For once, Jethro found himself missing DiNozzo's endless talking. The younger man was always different than him that way; he preferred quiet, DiNozzo would rather talk a person's ear off than sit in silence for more than five seconds. It always annoyed the crap out of the older man. But right now, he longed for his never-ending drivel.

They must have sat that way for twenty minutes at least before he heard Kate call out for him from upstairs. He called back, telling her to come to the basement, and stood up. He took a deep breath, preparing himself for exposing every detail he knew about DiNozzo to his Junior Agents. In any other situation, this would be considered an invasion of privacy, but now it was necessary. It still didn't sit right with him.

He cursed DiNozzo under his breath for what felt like the millionth time as Kate and McGee came down the stairs.

The two agents stopped as they saw Whitmore sitting on Jethro's saw horse, looking like a car just ran over his elderly grandmother. "What's he doing here?" Kate asked.

Jethro was about to answer when Whitmore spoke first. "I knew Agent DiNozzo when we were kids. He was my roommate."

Shock spread across the young agents' faces. "You mean at Military School?"

Whitmore chuckled. "Is that what he told you? Nice cover."

Kate and McGee turned to their boss. Kate's shock gave way to anger and confusion. "What does he mean, Gibbs?"

Jethro swallowed the lump in his throat. "Sit."

It looked as though Kate was about to argue again, but a minor glare from him had her changing her tune. She and McGee sat down on the edge of the stairs. Their body language showed just how tense they were about this whole situation. He couldn't blame them. He was briefing them on a case in his basement, not something that he had done before. What was worse was that he was briefing them about DiNozzo, as if he was a perp. Or worse, a victim. He was, but it didn't mean that they had to treat him like one. You sympathize with victims, pity them. DiNozzo deserved better than pity.

"Gibbs what's going on?" Kate asked, finally fed up with the silence.

He took another deep breath before he began. "Petty Officer Whitmore knew DiNozzo when," he faltered for a moment, "when they were being bred as high class sex slaves."

He watched as the color drained out of their faces. Any moment now, one of them would assume it was some sick joke, he knew they would. So before they could, he turned to Whitmore. He knew the story better than he did, and he couldn't say anymore. It was wrong for Jethro to ask Whitmore to repeat it all again, but he needed to.

Whitmore stared at him with sad eyes, silently asking if he could trust them. Jethro wondered if DiNozzo struggled with trust as much as Whitmore did.

He started the story the same way he did for Jethro, about how he was sold to 'Daddy' when he was six years old. "Tony was already there. Had been for two years." He kept his eyes away from all of them as he retold his story, probably only for the second time in his entire life. "Some of the other kids in our class told me that if I kept my head down and did what they told me to, then I wouldn't get hurt." He shook his head. "Not Tony. He used to piss them off whenever he could. Even back then. Six years old, and he had no problem spitting in an instructor's face."

He paused for a second to wipe his brow. "From the second day that I was there until we ran away, they taught us every way to pleasure a sexual partner, regardless of sex. To this day, I know how to give the perfect blowjob." He chuckled bitterly as a single tear leaked out of his eye. "I'm completely straight, and I know the best way to suck a dude's cock.

"They were breeding us. By the time we 'graduated,'" he specifically used finger quotes when he said that, "we would know how to get anybody off in any situation. The best places to touch somebody to excite them. Tony specialized in that. He once made one of our instructor's come just by hitting her pressure points." For a second, his laughter wasn't bitter. It was like that one single moment actually brought him real happiness. Jethro felt the bile rise again.

The smile faded as Whitmore continued. "When we were eight years old, we got the tattoos. The X means that we were in training, but never bought." Jethro heard Kate gasp when Whitmore said 'bought.'

"When we were eighteen, we'd be sold to whoever would be willing to pay. When that happened, we'd be given another tattoo under the X to signify that we were somebody's property, a weird, horizontal S thing. They made it seem like being sold was the greatest honor any of us would ever achieve."

"How did you escape?" Kate asked, her throat hoarse trying to hold in tears.

Tears were now freely flowing down Whitmore's cheeks. But he gave a small sad smile. "Tony. When we were teenagers, he woke me up and told me we were leaving."

"So you know how to get back there?"

He shook his head. "To be honest, the only thing I remember about that night is Tony. How he looked when he woke me up."

This time it was McGee who spoke. "How did he look?"

Whitmore finally turned to them, his eyes were gleaming with the tears not yet ready to fall. "Like they finally succeeded in ripping out his soul."

Jethro jumped up, unable to hear any more of this. He didn't want to think how broken Tony must have been growing up like that. "We need to get back to work. If Whitmore's right, then we have ten days to find DiNozzo before it's too late."

Kate tried to inconspicuously wipe a tear out of her eye. "What happens in ten days?"

Jethro avoided her eyes as he moved past his two agents up the stairs. "DiNozzo's gonna be put up for auction." If that came to pass, Jethro doubted he'd ever be able to find him.

* * *

><p><strong>Sorry it's so short, it wasn't intended that way, it kind of just happened. Anyways I hope you liked it. Well, maybe not liked, because it's not supposed to be something you 'like' necessarily, but maybe think it's a good read or something.<strong>

**Bob**


	11. 11

**So, just so you all know, I did not abandon this story I could give you excuses, I really could, but I won't, because I don't believe in them, and, well, other reasons. Just know that I have not stopped working on this! Ok, so I went a few days without writing because of a busy schedule and depressed friends, but I have not stopped! **

* * *

><p><strong>11<strong>

When Jethro and his team finally made it back to the Navy Yard, they immediately went to work. Kate looked into finding every piece of information she could find on DiNozzo since the time he escaped from the slavery ring while McGee focused on trying to find other escapees. He had gone down to Abby's lab, hoping that she could help him with the search. Jethro went through DiNozzo's personnel file and cross-checked it with Whitmore's. He figured that if the two escaped together, there had to be some common thread. Maybe if he could figure it out, he'd be able to determine where the ring was located.

He kept thinking back on what DiNozzo told him over the years, like how he went to Military School in Rhode Island. The Military School was obviously a lie, but maybe there was some truth in the lie. He'd seen Tony work undercover before; he worked it by molding his character around himself, not the other way around. Maybe there was some truth here too.

Or maybe it was all complete crap and he took rule seven to heart.

"There's a problem here, Gibbs," Kate said after two hours had passed. Jethro was certain that he was getting close to the answer when she interrupted his thoughts.

He looked up and snapped at her. "What?"

She stood up to move in front of him. "I've rechecked most of Tony's records since he ran away from the…" she swallowed the lump in her throat, "the slavery ring."

Jethro already knew all of that. "And?"

She dropped a piece of paper onto his desk. "Anthony DiNozzo Junior died when he was fifteen in a car accident. His father was drunk and swerved off the road on Long Island."

Jethro had to take a moment to process that. If the real Anthony DiNozzo Jr. was dead, who the hell had he been working with for the last three years? What about his past was real?

His personnel file was going to be completely useless.

With a flash of anger that he hadn't expected, he took the file and tossed it across the bullpen. Kate jumped, but remained silent. She took a step back and kept her head down. Jethro knew that this bothered her as much as it bothered him. But he didn't care. He stepped into her face. A part of him just wanted to take his anger out on her, but he somehow managed to restrain himself. "You find me the truth. Everything you can about who DiNozzo was before he was taken by the ring. Now!"

Without waiting for her reply, he stormed away and made his way to Abby's lab. Hopefully she and McGee found something useful that could fix this mess.

When he entered the lab, he stopped in the doorway. Something was wrong. It took him a moment to realize that the music that normally assaulted his ears upon entering was gone. Normally, the music was the first thing he noticed when he came to visit Abby; having it missing bothered him more than he would have liked to admit.

He stepped farther inside and noticed Abby and McGee at their computers, working diligently. He could hear their fingers tapping against keys in a quick rhythm to the point that he missed the crap Abby called music. If anything, it was less annoying than the keys constantly clacking.

He moved up behind her till his chin was almost level with her shoulder. "What you got, Abs?"

The forensic scientist leapt a good foot before she whirled around. "Gibbs! When did you get here? Don't answer that. I don't have anything for you yet." She whirled back to her computer. "I'm trying, I really am, but these people are paranoid. So far the only names I can come up with that have the same tattoo as Tony and Jones are dead. Two people were arrested for prostitution about five years back with that tat, but they committed suicide right after arraignment. They know how to hide Gibbs. It's what keeps them alive. So go away and come back later when we have something."

Jethro could hear the disappointment in her voice. It obviously pained her greatly that she couldn't be more help. He wasn't surprised. She and DiNozzo, or whatever his real name was, had always been close friends. Maybe more.

"Uh Boss, I may have something."

Jethro turned to his Probationary Agent with a glare. "You _may _have something?"

McGee paled, a feat, considering the young man was pale to begin with. "Well, I'm, um, I'm not really sure. I, um, I've been going through Agent DiNozzo's email and computer files—"

Jethro cut him off with a bark, "Unless he wrote down where he was housed when he was a child, I don't care!" He turned around, fully intending to go back upstairs and demand answers out of Kate that he knew she didn't have just yet. He had only been gone for five minutes, tops.

"He has a standing meeting every month!" McGee shouted after him. That got the Team Leader to stop. He slowly turned around. "It might be nothing, but he meets somebody named 'Rick' every month like clockwork. Maybe he told this guy what happened. It's a long shot, but—"

"It's something," Jethro finished for him. "Good job, McGee. Give me an address." McGee handed him a slip of paper with an address written on it. Jethro turned back around, this time with a new mission. "Get me more!" With that he left.

A part of him considered going to get Kate and having her go with him, as regulations demanded. But he needed her at her desk, and he needed McGee in Abby's lab. Jethro was the only one free to check out the lead.

He stopped by his desk long enough to grab his badge and sidearm before he left again. He didn't tell Kate where he was going, he just left. She tried to ask him questions, but he just told her to keep working and that he would be back later. Then he got in the elevator, and things were finally quiet.

The address McGee gave him was for a house in Georgetown. It was a nice place; obviously "Rick" was pretty well off. There was a Mercedes Benz in the driveway.

At first, Jethro didn't know what to expect when he went up to the door. For all he knew, he was meeting with yet another one of Tony's sex partners. He hated how disgusted he felt at that thought. He knew what Tony was taught to do, but he hated the younger man for allowing people to use him like that. He should have been stronger to resist. He managed to run away, why didn't he put that part of his life behind him when he left?

How could he be so weak?

Jethro stepped up onto the porch and rang the doorbell. He only had a wait a few moments before the door swung open. Standing before him was a middle aged man with dirty blonde hair and dull brown eyes. He was mildly attractive, but nothing compared to the few men he'd met the past few days. Jethro also noticed the wedding band the man wore on his left ring finger.

"Can I help you?" The man asked, crossing his arms over his chest. That was the first time that Jethro noticed he was wearing a diamond designed sweater vest.

"Are you Rick?" he asked.

The man tensed. "Who's asking?"

Jethro pulled out his badge and I.D. "Special Agent Gibbs, NCIS. You meet with one of my agents once a month."

The man shook his head, "I'm sorry, I don't know any NCIS—"

Jethro cut him off before he could feed him any more lies. "Anthony DiNozzo. Six two, dark hair, green eyes. Pretty."

Again, the man shook his head. "I'm sorry, that doesn't ring any bells, now you need to go." He tried to close the door, but Jethro stopped it, his anger growing again.

He tried to remain calm, but it was growing more difficult. "He's been kidnapped." He watched as Rick paled. "If you know anything that can help me find him, you need to tell me." He finished it off with another glare.

Rick shook minutely. "Is this some trick?"

Jethro finally got the hint. His anger rose again, but he somehow managed to suppress it. "Tony told you not to trust anybody, didn't he? Told you to be aware if somebody came asking about him?" Rick paled again, silently telling Jethro that he was on the mark. He couldn't believe that DiNozzo would tell this stranger the truth but not his boss. Didn't he trust him at all?

"I promise you, I'm not trying to hurt him," Jethro said, lowering his hand from the door. "I'm trying to help him."

After another moment, Rick sighed heavily in defeat. "Why don't you come in?" He stepped inside to let the agent inside.

He took stock of the home. It was plush, everything was exactly in its place, and everything looked like it cost more than all of his belongings put together. Whoever Rick was, he got paid well. For a second, Jethro thought that he walked into a trap, but that didn't make any sense. If Rick was involved in the 'ring' in any way, why would DiNozzo routinely come to see him every month if he spent most of his life running away?

Rick moved into a small study off the main foyer. His arms were once again crossed over his chest and he kept his eyes to the floor. "I don't know all the details, but Tony told me enough to convince me not to treat him at my office."

Jethro shook his head in confusion. "Treat?"

Rick nodded. "I'm a doctor. Urologist, specifically. Dr. Richard Masters, but Tony calls me Rick for some reason."

Jethro was still confused. Why wouldn't DiNozzo want an Urologist to treat him at his office?

Rick continued speaking, completely oblivious to Jethro's inner questions. "He came to me about five years ago when he moved to Baltimore. Said he needed something checked out, but he didn't want his job to know. He offered to pay the bill out of pocket, but once I heard his story, I offered to treat him free of charge."

"What did Tony tell you?"

"I wish I could tell you that, Agent Gibbs. But doctor-patient confidentiality—"

Jethro cut him off again. "Wouldn't apply. You're treating DiNozzo outside of your office, off the record. Now," he stepped closer, "off the record, what's wrong with DiNozzo that would send him here?"

Rick shook his head. "I'm not sure how this will help you find him, Agent Gibbs."

"Is there something wrong with DiNozzo? Something life threatening?"

"No, no, nothing like that."

"Then what is it?" Jethro was starting to raise his voice. If Rick didn't start talking, he'd probably pull his gun again.

"Doctor-patient confidentiality—" he tried to sprout out again, and again, Jethro cut him off.

"I need to know what they did to my agent. I need to know exactly what I'm dealing with, and you lost the chance to use doctor-patient confidentiality when you chose to treat DiNozzo off the books. What was he seeing you for?"

By now, he was inches away from Rick's face, ready to knock him down if he had to. He was telling the truth. He needed to know as much as possible about what DiNozzo endured when he was a child and what he might endure now that he was taken again. And he needed to know why DiNozzo would need to see an Urologist once a month. Nobody goes to a doctor once a month. Why would he?

Finally, Rick sighed heavily. "Agent DiNozzo has hypertrophic scarring."

Jethro shook his head. "What?" And what did scarring have to do with an Urologist?

Rick rolled his eyes. "Hypertrophic scarring is a form of scar tissue, in some cases it can be painful. In Agent DiNozzo's case, it's very painful."

"Why would he go to an Urologist instead of a Dermotologist?"

Rick sighed again. "Because, Tony's scarring is on his prostate."

_**it may be, and the banquet's hum**_

Amalea stood outside the Tough Love room and listened to the screams.

She should have felt bad for making somebody endure this when it scared her so much as a child, but for some reason, she took great pleasure in listening to the screaming. It calmed her, somehow.

"Amalea," she heard the smooth deep voice from her left. She turned her head to see Director Samson standing next to her, smiling brightly as another scream broke into the corridor.

She straightened up a little and crossed her arms under her full chest. "Director. Did Trent finish his assignment?"

Samson nodded. "He did, and I believe that you will be very proud of his work. And I guarantee you he won't make the same mistake that Harris made." He leaned against the wall, pressing his ear inconspicuously against the door as another scream erupted.

She nodded. "He better, I would hate for Trent to meet the same fate as Harris."

He chuckled and lifted up the envelope he had been carrying. "He took photos, so you could see how he worked."

She actually smiled for the first time in days. When she opened the manila envelope, her smile widened. She had a feeling that Trent Kort would work out well with this assignment.

She dropped the envelope to her side and stared into Samson's eyes. "I have another assignment, if, of course, he's interested." She said it sarcastically. Kort being interested in the job wasn't a concern; she just liked to tease a man she once auditioned for.

He chuckled. "I'm sure he'd be very interested, Amalea. Who's the target this time?"

She checked the hallway to make sure they were alone. Then she leaned in close so she couldn't be seen from the security cameras. Many of the people she had working for her could read lips. She did that purposely. The cameras didn't have sound, but that didn't mean she didn't want to know what her dependents were talking about when they thought nobody could hear.

"Casey," she whispered against Samson's ear. Then she leaned back with a smirk on her glossy lips.

Samson stared at her surprised. "Why?"

"He's a problem, and I need to eliminate my problems." That's what Daddy always taught her. Never try to reason with a problem, eliminate it before it has the chance to get out of hand. That's half the reason she kept Tough Love up and running.

Samson was still shocked, but after a moment he nodded his head. He took a step back to turn around and leave, but he stopped at the last moment. "Before I forget, my sister is turning fifty next month."

She nodded. "Tell her I said 'Happy Birthday.'"

He smiled. "Thank you. But, I wanted to get her a… better gift than I normally give her. Any suggestions?"

It was her turn to smile. "Does she prefer men or women?"

"Men."

"I'm sure we can find something decent for her."

The door slid open; Francis stood in the doorway, grinning proudly, his loose dress pants tented across his crotch. As much as it disgusted her at times, that was the reason that she hired Francis. He was sexually aroused at the strangest and sickest of things, which made him the best enforcer she could think of. Instead of balking at things like Tough Love, or some of the more… archaic disciplinary tactics, he enjoyed them.

"Everything settled, Francis?" She asked. The fact that Samson stared into the room with a gaze full of lust didn't escape her notice.

Francis nodded. "He won't be givin' us any more problems, ma'am."

Amalea nodded. "Very good. As a reward, you can have your pick of any of the dependents. For the night." She had to add that in, otherwise Francis might think she was giving him a dependent to keep.

He nodded again. "Thank you, ma'am." With that, he took his leave.

She turned back to the director of the CIA as he licked his lips. "You know, I can't possibly give my sister such an expensive birthday gift without a test run first, now can I?" He turned back to her, his pupils exploded with lust.

Her smile brightened even more. "That would just be irresponsible." Samson turned back to the room to stare at the man strapped into Tough Love. "I'll get a room set up for you." She turned around and sauntered down the corridor.

She knew that he would be good for business.

* * *

><p><strong>I know, I'm evil, and Gibbs is a douche, but I swear there is a reason to my madness! Everything has a purpose!<strong>

**Bob**


	12. 12

**I feel bad because this is such a short chapter, and I made you wait so long. Honestly, I've been so swamped this week that I never seemed to find time to update. I am so sorry, and I am really trying to be faster with this.**

**Fair warning, but on Tuesday, I am going out of town, again, and I won't be back until Saturday. Hopefully I'll be able to get internet access at the hotel, but I'm going out of town with my mother, and I highly doubt that she'll let me spend any time on Tosh, but I promise I will get the next chapter up by Sunday at the latest. If I don't, I give you all permission to Gibbsslap me and throw rotten vegetables and fruit at my head.**

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><p><strong>12<strong>

The more Jethro learned about DiNozzo, the angrier he grew. Now was no exception. "Scarring on his prostate?"

Rick nodded. He wiped at his eyes before he sat down. "He likes to have it checked out, in case of complications, and make sure that nothing develops—"

Jethro cut him off. "Scarring on his prostate?" His anger started to rise again. "How the hell did DiNozzo get scarring on his prostate?" Of all things that he could have learned, it had to be this. He just kept wondering if DiNozzo had any breaks in his life.

Rick just stared at him for a moment. "He never told you anything, did he?"

"Why don't you start?" Jethro glared.

The doctor shook his head. "I don't know the exact details."

"Well, what do you know?"

At first, it looked like Rick was going to stop talking, complaining about 'doctor-patient confidentiality' again. But Jethro cut him off.

"Did it happen when he was a kid?" he all but shouted.

Rick paused for a moment, before he said, "Yes."

Jethro sat down. "What did they do to him?"

Rick leaned forwards and kept his eyes trained on the floor. "According to Tony, somebody burned him."

For a moment, Jethro felt his heart stop. "Somebody _burned_ his prostate?" Even after saying it himself, he couldn't believe it. He couldn't believe that somebody could be that cruel to a child. Even people that bought and sold children for sex. Who could be that cruel to anybody?

Rick just nodded. "Unfortunately, that's all I really know. I mean, he told me a few details about his childhood, but I have no idea who would do this to him."

"Why did you agree to treat him away from the office?"

Rick stared straight in his eyes. Jethro could see that it pained him to admit all of this. It was going against every code of ethics he knew. The longer Jethro sat there, the more he learned about the 'good' doctor. "Because he convinced me that people would kill me and my family if his check-ups were discovered."

Jethro chuckled bitterly. "And giving you free sex probably had nothing to do with it." He stood up. A part of him wanted to beat Rick to death. And when the doctor had the nerve to look insulted, his urge grew.

"How dare you! I'm married!"

"Yeah! You got a nice house, a nice car, you really expect me to believe you did any of this out of the goodness of your heart?"

Rick stood up. "Is it really that hard to believe?"

"I think that DiNozzo's greatest weapon is sex. And a man like you isn't strong enough to turn away from that."

"Why? Because you're not?"

Jethro didn't even realize he had done it. Not until he looked down and saw Rick lying on the floor, holding his bloody lip did he know that he had hit the man. Jethro's fists were by his sides, shaking with rage. No matter what, he couldn't suppress the anger this time. He knelt down and drew his weapon. He pressed it against the doctor's temple. "What did you do to my agent?" he all but screamed at him.

"I—"

Jethro cut him off with another yell. "You what?"

"I let him give me a blow job a couple times, but I never fucked him!"

_Oh how noble_, Jethro thought. The fury was still bubbling inside of him, but he still managed to put his gun away. "Yeah, you're a great guy." He stood up and headed for the door.

"Hey!" The doctor called after him. Jethro didn't stop. "You wanna know why I never fucked Agent DiNozzo?"

Actually, he didn't. "Because you're a better man than me?" he asked sarcastically. He really didn't care. Rick knew about Tony's past. He treated him every month for that scarring. Jethro wasn't privy to any of that. His hands were clean. Rick was another story entirely.

"Because I would never torture him like that!"

That finally got Jethro to stop. His hand was on the doorknob when he turned around. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Rick chuckled sickeningly. "I told you that hypertrophic scarring hurts. And that kind of pain that Tony feels every time bastards like you decide to use him is excruciating." Jethro was barely listening. He didn't believe it. He had a few scars, they didn't hurt like that. "Whatever they did to him is permanent." He stepped closer. His lip was already starting to swell. "Did you even notice the pain that he was in when you were pummeling into him? Or did you just not care?"

Before he hit the man again, Jethro ripped the door open and stepped out of the plush house.

Rick was making that up, Jethro knew it. DiNozzo wasn't weak like that. He wouldn't just let Jethro fuck him if it hurt that badly. Rick was pissed about the punch, but knew that he couldn't turn Jethro in. If he did, Jethro could easily report him to the Medical Board. Although, Jethro wasn't sure he still wouldn't. He bargained sexual pleasures for treatment out of a terrified, traumatized man. A guy like that didn't deserve to live, let alone practice medicine. Who knew how many other men he was examining off the books in exchange for sexual favors?

Jethro climbed into his car and drove away. At first, he thought about heading to the office, but he wasn't sure if he could deal with Kate and McGee just yet. They would no doubt have questions about what he just learned, and it wasn't any of their business.

Then a thought came to him. The burning must have been what made DiNozzo decide to run. But that didn't make any sense. If DiNozzo was strong enough to run when they hurt him, why was he so weak to allow himself to be used by his doctor? Why let himself be used by Morrow for his pleasure?

What if Rick had been lying to him? Maybe he made it all up to cover his own ass. Hell, DiNozzo was offering him a free monthly blowjob. For all Jethro knew, he somehow managed to convince DiNozzo that he needed monthly prostate exams just so he could use the younger man for his own desires. And now he was telling Jethro something to throw any suspicion off of himself. Jethro had gone there asking questions about what other people had done to his agent, but he never thought to question what the doctor had personally done.

He needed to confirm. He turned the car towards his house. Whitmore was DiNozzo's roommate. Maybe he could confirm if 'burning the prostate' was a real punishment. And if it was, maybe he could confirm if DiNozzo received it once or not.

But as soon as he arrived in his driveway, he knew something was wrong. He couldn't explain how, just his gut. Something just felt off.

Pulling his sidearm, he approached his front door quickly, with his head down. He turned the knob and it easily sprung open. His gut twisted harder. He remembered that he locked the door when he left. He had an important witness in his house, he knew he locked it.

Slowly and quietly, he cleared the first floor before moving upstairs to clear that. Both were empty. He didn't even think about calling out for Whitmore, if there was somebody else in his house, he didn't want them to get the drop on him. So carefully, Jethro made it down the stairs and went straight for the basement. His gun was still raised before him, entering every room before his body did. His steps were light, not making any sound on the linoleum. But the stairs to the basement were wood and there'd be no way of covering his steps then.

He grabbed the knob to the basement door and quickly pushed it open. He crouched low and kept hidden behind the frame.

He saw it immediately. Or rather, he saw _him_ immediately.

The wood from the rafters creaked as Whitmore swung side to side. Rope was wrapped around his throat. His skin had lost its color. He had been dead for quite a while.

Jethro closed his eyes and held back a curse. Quickly, he stood back up and went down the stairs, making sure to sweep the entire area before he put his gun back at his hip. Unable to hold back his rage, he punched one of the ribs of his boat. But all that did was hurt his hand, which made his anger intensify.

He didn't for a second think that Whitmore committed suicide. His childhood was horrible, but he didn't want to die. There was no way that that thought changed in a handful of hours.

Not even Jethro's home was safe from these people. Nothing that he did helped. Every time he took a step forward, they came and knocked him back half a mile.

Whitmore was dead, and Jethro honestly had no clue what to do next.

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, I feel like crap for making you wait so long for this, only to end it there. Yes, I wish I could say things get better in the next couple of chapters, but sadly no, I honestly can't say that with a guilt free conscience. Next chapter has a lot of crap being thrown at you and the one after that actually hurts me just to look at. But! I am close to writing Tony back into the story. Almost there, almost there. We just have to cling to that! <strong>

**Bob**


	13. 13

***Smacks self* Ok, so last week, I went on vacation to Boston, and while I was there, my lovely family decided to throw me completely off schedule by waking me up by nine thirty in the morning. It doesn't sound like a big deal, especially considering the entire time we were there, they were all passed out by ten. Me, I'm used to going to bed at five, waking up at two, so even though I was waking up insanely early, I still couldn't fall asleep until four in the morning. Moving on, when we came home, my schedule was completely out of whack, I was tired all the time time, and just reading was a chore, let alone writing and posting. So I took the week to try and regroup and actually, function again. It was incredibly difficult, but now I think I have my head back on straight. But I thought that you guys deserved an explanation for why I was so late posting this. It is not an excuse, I know I should have pushed through it, I don't know why I couldn't, but my brain does not like working during the day, and the time that I usually write/post/everything, I was so exhausted I couldn't do anything that required any sort of focus (My brain likes to wander when it's tired). But I swear, I will do everything in my power to get this back on track and start posting at a relatively calm schedule. And actually finish this, I'm still trying to do that. But I am working on all of it! So long as I never go on another vacation with my mother, I should be good.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>13<span>**

Jethro didn't help as the rest of the team handled the crime scene. Not that he could, or he would 'risk tampering with the scene' or some other bullshit that the higher ups kept throwing at him. He groaned. He never wanted his basement to be a crime scene again.

Kate was the first one to approach him, she looked downright miserable now. "It appears to be a suicide, Gibbs."

He shook his head. "It's not." He still refused to believe that Whitmore killed himself.

She still tried to push it though, "With everything that he told us, it's no surprise that he would kill himself. I mean, what he went through—"

Jethro cut her off. "He survived all of that because he wanted to live. Not die." When he turned away from her, she got the hint and walked away.

He dropped his head down, too drained to do anything else. He didn't know how to win. He found a killer and a direct link to the ring, and he was killed in an NCIS interrogation room. He found a key witness, and he was murdered in Jethro's own house. It was after midnight, he was starting the second day of his search, and he still had nothing. He didn't know what to do anymore. For the first time in a long time, he was completely lost. And of all times for that to happen, it had to happen now, when so much was at stake.

Ducky and Palmer approached him then, wheeling Whitmore's body along. The agent stood to give them access to the stairs; instead he went to stand with his two agents. Kate and McGee were packing up their evidence to carry back to the office. Both of them were hoping to get at least a fingerprint, but Jethro was doubtful. So far, they hadn't caught a single break since this whole mess started. He didn't doubt that they'd be in the same boat this time.

He turned to his own boat, taking up space in his basement. He couldn't help it. He laughed. It sounded hysterical, even to his own ears, but he couldn't stop. Maybe he'd finally lost it, but his unintentional pun just sounded so damn funny.

The other two were staring at him in confirmation that he had, in fact, lost it, but he didn't care.

After another minute, he was finally able to compose himself. He turned to his agents and started to give them orders. "Kate, I want you with Abby helping her process this, while you're down there, keep looking into DiNozzo's background. McGee, keep looking for escapees, but see if you can find their parents too. Look into child services records, see if any parent had a kid one week and didn't the next."

They both nodded. Jethro turned around and headed back to his car. They could take the truck back to NCIS, but he wanted to be alone. He needed to think.

There had to be somebody who the ring couldn't get to. One person who couldn't be killed, or bought. He just had to find him. Or her.

That was when it finally occurred to him, as he was pulling into the Navy Yard. There was somebody else left to talk to. Somebody who had bedded DiNozzo who may know something.

He slammed on the gas pedal and flew through the parking lot. He scraped against another sedan as he pulled into his parking space but he didn't care. The key was barely out of the ignition when he jumped out of the car and all but ran back into the building.

Jethro paid no attention to the guard on duty, Henry. He was a good guy and Jethro normally liked to talk to him, but not today. Today he had somebody higher up on the food chain to deal with.

Knowing full well that he was more likely to find Director Morrow holed up in MTAC, he made a beeline for there first. Sure enough, as soon as he scanned his iris and strode through the door, he found Morrow sitting near the back of the theater.

Quietly he sat next to his friend, a man he respected greatly.

"Find him yet, Jethro?" Morrow asked, barely looking away from the screen.

Jethro held his tongue. He wanted to say something scathing, but he knew now was not the time. "Not yet."

Morrow made a sound of disappointment in the back of his throat. Again, Jethro held his tongue. "So what can I do for you?" Morrow asked, taking a sip of his coffee.

"I need to know about the time you had sex with Agent DiNozzo." He kept his voice down, even though inside he felt like screaming it.

Morrow jerked his head to stare at him like a gaping fish. Jethro stared him straight in the eye, unafraid and unwilling to move until he got the answers he needed.

"I don't know what you're talking about—" Morrow started before Jethro cut him off.

"I figured it out after our little chat yesterday." He wasn't going to back down, and Morrow needed to realize that.

He finally did. After another few moments of staring and glaring, the director said, "Not here," and led Jethro back to his office.

Jethro watched him the entire time. The man was tense. More so than the agent had ever seen him before. Not that it was much of a surprise. Morrow was a family man and the head of a federal agency. If word got out that he slept with a male employee, not only his marriage would be over, but his career too. He'd be a laughing stock in D.C.

When they finally made it to Morrow's office, the director moved to stand behind his desk before he turned around to face his agent. "What exactly are you implying, Jethro?"

He couldn't hold his anger any longer, "You had sex with DiNozzo, and I need to know what happened."

"Even if that were true, I don't see how any of it is your concern—"

Again, Jethro cut him off. "DiNozzo was raised to be a slave!" he shouted. That made Morrow pale, his body going back, as if Jethro had delivered an actual blow to his face. "No matter what I do, these people are a step ahead of me, and I need you to tell me right now, what happened!"

The director sat down. A part of the other man wanted to tell him in excruciating detail exactly what Tony endured, possibly even bringing up the lie that Rick had told him about the burned prostate. But when he saw Morrow's face, how defeated he looked already, he just didn't have the heart to do it.

"Tony didn't tell me anything." He shook his head. "It was just a drunken mistake at last year's Christmas party and we both agreed to never talk about it again."

"You both agreed or did you just tell him?" Knowing DiNozzo, especially now, Jethro wouldn't have been surprised if that was the case.

Morrow sighed heavily, clearly bothered. "I told him. I pretty much threatened him."

"Did you see his tattoo when you were fucking him?" Jethro spit out angrily.

Morrow looked up, confusion written all over his face before he nodded. "I did. What does that have to—"

Jethro cut him off for the third time. "Do you know if any other agents have that tattoo?"

Morrow shook his head. "No, I don't." When Jethro gave him his patented glare, he elaborated, "Tony is the only agent I ever slept with."

Jethro scoffed. "Just couldn't resist the DiNozzo charm?" he asked sarcastically. Morrow was his friend, but Jethro lost a great deal of respect for him. All in a handful of minutes.

As he was walking out, Morrow stopped him. "You act like you never gave in." Jethro stood at the door, his hand hovering over the knob as his boss continued. "Are you telling me you never even thought about it?"

Without another word, Jethro threw the door open and stalked out.

_**Thou from a vast and distant country come**_

Abby's lab was quieter than Kate was ever used to seeing it. And the forensic scientist was more sullen than she normally was. Not that Kate was really surprised. They were all having that same problem.

It killed her every time she was asked to look into a victim's background, invading their privacy like that. But this time was much worse. Normally, she could at least separate herself from the victim, say that she was just doing her job, trying to get justice for these poor people. But this time was much more personal. Because the victim was her teammate.

After Whitmore told them what Tony endured as a child, Kate had come back to headquarters and threw up. She wanted to just break down and sob for the next week, but Gibbs wouldn't let her. She had a job to do; she had to find her partner.

Abby was busy going through the forensics while Kate checked through the real Anthony DiNozzo's records as she waited to get access to Tony's files. Apparently, he had a sealed record from when he was a juvenile.

It seemed that Tony had done his homework. DiNozzo's mother really had died when he was a child, and his father really was wealthy. There were a few changes, the real DiNozzo was never cut off from his inheritance—Tony probably just said that to cover up why he didn't have a boat load of cash on hand—and there was no mention of the mother having a Louis XV fetish, but maybe that was something Tony remembered from his time with the ring and he just incorporated a more… _appealing _back-story to it. Or maybe he remembered it from his childhood prior to being sold to the ring. Maybe it was a real memory.

Abby slammed her keyboard down on the desk, causing the agent in the room to jump. Abby never got that mad at her babies, she'd yell at them, but actually hitting them? Never.

"He didn't leave any fingerprints. If Whitmore was really murdered, then his killer was wearing gloves because there are no finger prints other than Gibbs' and Whitmore's."

She kept ranting about everything she could think of. As soon as she started complaining that there was too much mayonnaise on her sandwich, Kate grabbed her and pulled her into a hug.

Abby wrapped her arms around her and hugged until Kate felt her ribs start to give. But she didn't let her go. "Tony's going to be ok."

The forensic scientist shook her head in Kate's shoulder. "What if he's not?"

Kate pulled away to look her directly in the eye. "Abby, do you really think that Gibbs is going to let anything happen to Tony? Let's face it; there are only two people on the planet who are allowed to kill Tony."

Abby smiled a little. "You and Gibbs?"

"Exactly."

That caused the Goth to giggle. But only a second later she was somber again. "There's other ways to hurt him than killing him though," she finally said.

Kate's smile faded as she nodded. "I know." She heard Whitmore recount what happened to him in his childhood. What Tony went through in his childhood. It made her sick to her stomach thinking that he managed to escape, only to find himself back there again. Only this time, it was probably worse.

"I slept with Tony," Abby blurted out after five minutes of silence.

Kate jerked her head up in shock. "What?"

The Goth had tears in her eyes as she spoke. "I had sex with Tony. Before you joined the team, Tony promised me dinner if I got him fingerprints in a half an hour, and afterwards we had sex. I didn't know what happened to him, I didn't—"

Kate cut her off with another hug. This time, she squeezed just as tight as Abby did. "None of us knew, Abs." And it hurt her just as much as it hurt her friend. Maybe even more.

Kate looked back on all the times she made fun of Tony, all the times she said he was disgusting, or a pig, or how she mocked him incessantly for 'tonguing a guy.' She meant it in jest; Tony was always screwing with her, going through her things, eavesdropping on her phone calls, so that when she had an edge on him, she would use it. But now looking back on it all, she just felt cheap and dirty. She couldn't imagine the kind of pain that she put her friend through. And Tony was her friend. She just hoped he knew that.

She pulled away from Abby again, tears sliding down her cheeks. "I promise, we are going to get Tony back, and we can both apologize for how we've treated him."

That got Abby to smile again. "What about Gibbs' thing that apologies are a sign of weakness?"

"Not between family."

The two hugged one last time before they buckled down and got back to work. Kate knew that they needed that interlude, especially with how this case had worked out so far. Every lead they had was murdered, and Tony was about to be put up for auction for a bunch of sleazy rich bastards. Kate never felt so drained before. But now she had something more to work for. She owed Tony an apology, and she wouldn't stop until she could give him one.

After a few hours and a few phone calls, she was able to get Tony's sealed juvenile record unsealed. Apparently Tony had been arrested right after he escaped from the ring for stalking a family in Pittsburgh. That got Kate's heart racing. Why would Tony escape from captivity just to go and stalk a family?

When she started researching the family, she figured out the reason.

Without waiting for Abby, she jumped out of her seat and darted for the stairs. The other woman called after her, but she ignored her. This was big. No, scratch that, this was better than big.

This was a lead.

She burst through the doors into the bullpen, panting heavily. Gibbs was just walking down the stairs from talking with the director. Probably giving him an update on the case.

"Got something, Kate?"

She nodded. "I think I found Tony's family."

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><p><strong>So how much bribery do I have to give you guys before you forgive me for my unintentional hiatus? Only to be followed by THAT ending line, and now that I see it, I feel like a jerk, I'm sorry. Scratch that, I'm more than sorry. And I wish I knew a word that expressed more than sorry. I will get better! I have to! <strong>

**Bob**


	14. 14

**Ok, so, for the last week, there have been two issues, I have either been running around, too busy to update, or my internet was not working, sometimes both. It isn't because I forgot about it, I just never seemed to have any time. But now I do, so I am uploading this chapter. And I really hope that it was worth the wait.**

* * *

><p><strong><span>14<span>**

At first he didn't know what to say or think. This should have been good news, but he couldn't feel it. Every time Jethro thought they were close to cracking the case open, his lead got killed. How did he know the same wouldn't happen now?

More importantly, Kate said 'think.' That wasn't a definitive answer. Their time was running low, they needed definite, not thoughts.

But he still wanted to know what she did. "Who?"

Still panting, she said, "Michael and Olivia Fanelli, they live in Pittsburgh, Pennsylvania."

McGee started typing something on his computer. Kate didn't have a file, so hopefully the younger agent could pull up what they needed. "What makes you think that their Tony's family?"

Kate smiled smugly at him. "When Tony was fifteen, he was arrested for staking out the Fanelli's house. Michael spotted him and called the cops, but when he went down to the station to make a statement, he recanted, said he just overreacted."

"Oh my god," said McGee as he put up whatever he found on the plasma. Jethro stood behind his desk and stared at the words on the screen.

McGee stood up and moved right behind his boss. "Child services were called on the Fanelli's twenty-nine years ago when their two youngest children went missing."

"That would make Tony four years old at the time," Kate finished.

That was the exact age that DiNozzo went missing.

The Probie continued, "This is the first luck we had. Twenty-nine years ago, all those files would have been hard copies. What are the chances that the file we need was converted to an electronic one?"

Jethro shook his head. "It's not luck." It was an insurance policy.

If the ring wanted these files gone, then—if Jethro learned anything in the last few days— they would be gone. The fact that the Fanelli's case file not only hadn't disappeared, but was converted to an electronic copy meant that it was done on purpose. Whoever Daddy was, was using these case files to keep the parents quiet. Smart.

"Kate you're with me," he shouted as he went to grab his gun. They were going to drive up to Pittsburgh and bring the Fanelli back. Jethro kind of hoped that the bastard would try and resist. It would give him a reason to shoot him.

What kind of man sold his own son to be a sex slave? What kind of mother would allow it to happen? They destroyed their son's life. As far as Jethro was concerned, what was happening to Tony now was completely their fault.

"Boss!" McGee called back when he and Kate were standing at the elevator.

Jethro turned around, waiting to hear what his youngest agent had to say.

"Tony has a twin sister."

The elevator chose that moment to arrive. "Find me the social worker, McGee!" Jethro called as he stepped in, even more stunned than he had been when he found out Tony was involved in a slavery ring. Kate had pushed the button for the elevator, since he was too stunned to react.

Next to him, Kate shook her head. "What kind of parents would sell their children like that?"

He shrugged. "We're about to find out."

_**Thou who still pure, and innocently bare**_

At first, Tim wasn't sure what to do. He knew Gibbs told him to find the social worker, but for some reason, he had a hard time moving. Or even functioning at all. His partner had a sister that he never knew about. God only knew what happened to her since they were four. For all any of them knew, she was killed.

Whitmore never mentioned a sister, according to him, only he and Tony escaped that night. A part of Tim wanted to find her, maybe reunite her with her brother. After everything they've gone through, he couldn't think of something happier than that.

He wiped a hand over his face and started his search. Apparently, the social worker, Angela Barry, was quite young when she first made contact with the Fanelli. According to her records—also miraculously computerized—the parents sent their twins to family in Canada. She wrote that she spoke to them on the phone. That was the last time she ever had contact with the family.

Either she was really gullible in her youth, or she was involved in the ring. Tim was betting on the latter.

He kept going through the files, trying to find a recent address for her when he noticed somebody approach his desk out of the corner of his eye. When he looked up, Ducky was standing in front of him.

"Where's Jethro?" The elderly gentleman asked.

Tim answered, "He and Kate are driving up to Pittsburgh to try and find Tony's biological family. What's up?"

With a quick nod, Ducky dropped a file on his desk. "I finished the autopsy on our murder/suicide."

Tim nodded. "Find anything?"

Ducky nodded. "As expected, our attorney friend has the tattoo on his back like the others." Tim nodded again. He figured as much. He was really getting sick of that damn thing. It said so much, but always gave them so little. "I did however, find something interesting about this one," the doctor continued.

"Yeah, what's that?'

Ducky pointed to the file. Tim opened it up to see a picture of that damn tattoo. Only, Ducky was right, this one was different. It looked like there were initials in the S. 'C.D.'

His heart jumped. If whoever owned Rook was cocky enough to have his initials tattooed on him, then maybe McGee could find him.

"That's great, Ducky, thanks." He started up another search, this time looking for anybody with the initials 'C.D.' Unfortunately, that was going to take forever, just to get all the names, and he had no idea how to shorten the list. He didn't even know if he was looking for a man or a woman.

That was when Tim realized that Ducky was still standing there. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion. "Was there something else you needed?"

"You said that Jethro and Kate were trying to find Tony's biological family."

_Oh, right_. Tim forgot that they just found out about that. They hadn't had the chance to tell Ducky or Abby yet.

He relayed everything he learned thus far about the real Tony DiNozzo Jr. and how Kate may have found his real family.

Ducky looked on, pained as Tim had been earlier. It seemed to be the only emotion that anyone could feel this week. Pain, worry, and maybe a little pity.

Tim thought it was funny, normally he envied Tony. He was good looking, relatively likeable, he was a better investigator, Gibbs liked him, like actually _liked_ him. Sometimes Tim felt that Gibbs barely tolerated him, and everything he did was wrong. But Tony could probably murder somebody and Gibbs would help him hide the body.

There was a lot to envy about Tony DiNozzo, or whatever the hell his name was. This made the whole situation worse.

After finding out what happened to Tony, what was happening to him now, he no longer felt that envy. He actually felt relieved, grateful even, to have lived the life that he did. This in turn made him feel like crap. His feelings were conflicted with one another and he didn't know how to fix it.

Ducky nodded. "Find him, Timothy," was all he said before he went back down to Autopsy. Even though he was gone, Tim found himself nodding; promising the man that he would do what he asked. He would find his partner.

A pop up message appeared on his screen. His heart jumped. One step completed. He found Angela Barry. And better than that, she was local. She lived forty-five minutes away in Manassas, Virginia. He wanted to pick her up. He didn't want to wait for Gibbs to get back, but an agent never went off by himself, that was just stupid. True, the woman was pushing sixty now, but even older women could fire a gun. And if she knew anything about the ring, then Tim should expect to see some sort of resistance, or worse. Whoever killed Whitmore knew how to find him even though he was hiding in Gibbs' basement. If that was the case, then it wouldn't be hard to find Angela Barry. Tim had only been looking for the last few minutes. If the ring suspected that they were looking for Tony, then it was very likely that whoever was in charge would try and silence any connection Tony might have had to the outside world.

But then, if that was the case, then Tim had to go, and had to go now. What if Angela was in danger? Then Tim needed to protect her. He was an agent, and that was his job.

Without thinking about it anymore, Tim got up, grabbed his gun and badge and headed out the door. He should have had back up with him, but he didn't care. He didn't have time to try and find an agent who could accompany him to Manassas, and he couldn't wait for Gibbs and Kate to come back. His trip was forty five minutes, approximately. But those two were looking at a few hours, one way. And Tim just couldn't wait.

His pulse was racing as he got into the sedan and started driving. His hand automatically checked his hip holster at least a dozen times in the first fifteen minutes alone. Sweat coated his body in seconds and his grip on the steering wheel was painfully tight to stop them from shaking. He wasn't used to this. He had been a field agent for less than a year, and now here he was, heading off to talk to a witness, possibly a suspect, alone. He wasn't really sure how to feel about it, other than incredible fear.

He finally pulled into the appropriate drive-way. As soon as he saw the neighborhood, he knew that Angela Barry was not innocent. The average salary for a social worker was around 50,000 dollars a year. But the houses on this street cost more than triple that, at least. Angela Barry lived in a development neighborhood; all of the homes were new, huge, and pricey. No single, legit social worker could afford these homes.

But one who took a payoff from a powerful slavery ring that ministered to rich and powerful people probably could.

Trying to find the strength to move up the walk way, Tim slowly found his feet moving towards the porch. It wasn't until he stood in front of the door that he realized he had moved. By then, his traitorous hand was knocking.

He took a deep breath. He had come this far, and he wasn't going back empty handed.

The woman who answered the door was old. In fact, she looked much older than she should have. According to his records, Angela Barry was fifty-nine years old. But the woman who stood in front of him looked about seventy. Her hair was clearly died a bright red, but he could still see strips of gray through her head. Her skin hung loosely on her face and every inch of it was covered in wrinkles. If this was Angela Barry, she aged horribly. Out of guilt, maybe?

"Can I help you?" Even her voice told of a more advanced age.

"I'm looking for Angela Barry."

He saw the flash of fear in her eyes. "There's nobody here by that name, I'm sorry." Her words were spoken too quickly for Tim to even think of believing her. This was definitely Angela Barry, and she was terrified of him. That boosted his confidence a bit.

She tried to close the door on his face, but Tim grabbed the wood. He was younger and stronger than she was. She turned to him, visibly shaking.

"Ma'am," he said, trying to be calm and polite. "I understand this is difficult, but I'm going to need you to come with me."

That got a stronger reaction than he wanted. She screamed out, "No!" before she flew away from the door. Tim followed closely behind her.

But he stopped dead when he saw her raise the gun to his chest.

Her finger was on the trigger.

Tim was raised to never raise a hand to a woman, especially one as old and fragile as Angela Barry, but his survival instincts kicked in and before he knew what he was doing, he was grabbing at her and pushing the gun away from his face. She fired over his shoulder.

He jumped as his ears started to ring. But he couldn't concentrate on that. The woman wasn't holding a revolver; she was carrying a semi-automatic Beretta. If he let go, she could shoot him fast.

"Ma'am, ma'am," he tried to reason with her, but by this point, she was completely hysterical. She wouldn't stop shouting in his ear, crying out, grunting. Anything to get the gun away from his grasp. "Miss Barry I'm a Federal Agent, I'm not going to hurt you!"

That got her to laugh. "And why should I be dumb enough to believe that?"

Tim actually had to roll his eyes at that. "Look at me! Do I really look an assassin?" He was pudgy with a baby face and he was still shaking from being shot at. When Barry stopped struggling enough to actually look at him, he glared directly into her wrinkled, sunken eyes. "Or more importantly, do I look like one of your sex slaves?"

Almost immediately, he realized that he said the wrong thing. "How do you know about that?" she breathed out.

But her fingers loosened up on the gun, and he used that to his advantage to rip the gun out of her hands. "Because you know my partner. Anthony Fanelli."

Whatever color she may have had left ran out of her face. She stood there, shaking more than Tim had when he first walked up to the house. Her hands moved to cover her heart before quickly making the sign of the cross. Tim wanted to stop her. Somebody like her didn't deserve Heaven, or even God for that matter. She wasn't a human being. She was a monster that did nothing as Tony was being destroyed.

"I'm going to need you to come with me back to Washington," he said instead. It was better than bashing her skull in like he wanted to. He may need her to find Tony if Michael and Olivia Fanelli turned out to be as useless now as they were back when they first sold their children to 'Daddy.'

Barry frantically shook her head in fear. "I can't, I can't. They'll find me."

A part of him wanted to say "I don't give a fuck," or "One less scum bag in the world." He didn't know how he refrained. Instead, he said, "We'll protect you."

She scoffed. "You really think you can do that?"

_Not really_, he thought. But again, he refrained from actually saying it. "You may be the only hope we have of finding my partner. I guarantee I won't let anything happen to you."

Tears started to fall down her wrinkled face. "I didn't know. I swear I didn't know what they were doing to them." She kept rambling, no longer aware that Tim was even there. Her eyes drifted to the floor off to the side, "He said, he said they were safe. That they would have a better life. Their parents couldn't take care of them. I thought I was doing them a favor!" She hissed out the last line.

The more he heard the queasier Tim began to feel. His gut may not have been as strong as Gibbs' but he'd have to be a complete idiot not to realize something was wrong. And Tim McGee was no idiot.

"Miss Barry, what are you trying to say to me?"

She finally looked back into his eyes. For the first time, Tim realized that hers looked completely dead. "I handed them over. I'm the one who gave him the children!

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><p><strong>I'm too tired to say anything witty, so, talk to me!<strong>

**Bob**


	15. 15

**So I just started school again two days ago, and I'm a complete idiot who's now going to two different colleges at the same time, an idea that sounded better in theory. But I realized I had an hour and a half between schools, so I decided to upload a chapter _and _give my dog a bath. She's still not happy with me.**

**In a fic related note, I intended this chapter to be bad, and when I say that, I mean, well, pretty much I was aiming for ripping out your heart and stomping on it heart-wrenching, so please let me know if I succeeded, and I deeply apologize if I did succeed, and I apologize even more if I didn't. On a bright note, this is a long chapter. Like so long I'm going to be struggling to get to class tonight.**

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><p><strong><span>15<span>**

Jethro stared into the interrogation room through the one-way mirror at the man who shared an uncanny resemblance to his agent. It made him sick to think it, but it was almost like he was looking at DiNozzo in another thirty years.

Michael Fanelli was a tanned man with white hair and blue eyes. Looking at him, and there was no doubt in Jethro's mind that he had in fact found his agent's biological father. The man who sold him into the ring and put him through this torture. Twice.

Kate stepped behind him. "Angela Barry is all set in Interrogation Room 2."

Jethro just nodded. He was still pretty pissed at McGee for going off without back-up to pick up a possible suspect. He was even more pissed when he found out that Barry owned a gun.

"Gibbs, I know that McGee was reckless, but he did well today."

"He's lucky he didn't get shot." His tone signaled that this conversation was over. Kate got the hint. She was usually smart like that.

He still couldn't believe that _McGee_ of all people would be that reckless. He almost got killed because he couldn't wait for back-up?

If it was Kate or DiNozzo that went to Barry's house alone, he probably wouldn't have been as upset. Hell, just a year ago, it was only the three of them on a team. He was used to working on three man teams; he understood that sometimes you just can't wait. But the situations were different. Kate was Secret Service and DiNozzo—despite having a knack for getting into trouble—was damn good at his job. He trusted them to be able to take care of themselves. McGee was a computer geek. And while he was a damn good agent and turning into a damn fine investigator, he still had a lot to learn about field work. Kate or DiNozzo would have been fine if they were the ones who went to Barry's house alone. But McGee almost got killed, and he couldn't lose two agents in such a short time span. He couldn't handle that.

"Kate, do you think you can handle Barry?" He finally turned to look at his female agent. She looked much better now than she had only earlier today. But when he asked her that, she brightened even more.

"It would be my pleasure, Gibbs."

He suppressed his grin as he strode out of Observation and into Interrogation. He was greatly looking forward to this. He wanted to completely destroy this man. Just what kind of father would sell his children like that?

Jethro would do anything to hold his daughter again, but he would never get that opportunity. Kelly was stolen from him, and this man just tossed his kids away like they were yesterday's newspaper covered in dog crap.

He sat down across from Fanelli. The man was angry, though Jethro didn't know why. Normally he waited much longer before he entered Interrogation. He wanted his suspects to sweat a bit more. But this time, he didn't have the time or the patience.

"Can I ask what the hell is going on? Just what is it that I'm supposed to have done, Agent Gibbs?"

Jethro suppressed the urge to punch the man in the face. "Eighteen years ago, you reported a young man for stalking around outside your house."

The man opposite him looked confused for a moment. "What's the point of this?"

"You changed your story. Said you made a mistake. Why?"

Fanelli actually had the nerve to laugh. "Agent Gibbs, that was eighteen years ago, you actually expect me to remember that night? I'm an old man; I can barely remember what I had for breakfast this morning." He had a presence about him that reminded Jethro of a con man.

The agent just shrugged. "I figured you would remember seeing your son."

The man frowned. "My son lives in New York City. He's an attorney." It was a threat, and Jethro knew it.

"I was talking about the other one. Anthony."

"_Anthony_ lives in Canada." The longer this conversation went on, the angrier Fanelli grew.

"Yeah?" Jethro asked, a fake smile plastered across his mouth as he leaned back in his seat. "What's he doing?"

"He's in construction."

Jethro chuckled at such a bold faced lie. "I don't think so." He pulled out a picture from the folder he had carried in with him. It was DiNozzo's photo. His chest tightened as he stared into the young man's face.

Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tossed the photograph across the table until it slid in front of Fanelli. "Your son works for me."

He watched as his agent's father stared down at the picture. His jaw fell open and his hands started shaking. Jethro wasn't entirely sure, but it almost looked like there were tears in his eyes.

He started pulling out more papers. Files from Tony's old jobs, commendations he'd received. There were a lot of them. "He's been working for me for the last three years. Before that, Baltimore, for two years, until his partner betrayed him." DiNozzo's old partner, Danny—his friend—turned out to be a dirty cop. Jethro didn't realize until now how much that must have hurt a man who was betrayed by just about everybody in his life. "Before that was Philadelphia, and Peoria. At the age of thirty, not only was he a detective, but he was the best one in his unit." He finally ran out of papers. "And he's the best young agent I've ever worked with." Who was he kidding? DiNozzo was the best agent he ever worked with period.

"Stop," Fanelli said, barely above a whisper. "Please."

"He's the class clown of the team." He leaned back again, and for the first time, he was actually smiling a real smile. "No matter the situation, he always has a joke to tell. Watches too many movies for my liking sometimes, but somehow, they always manage to relate to a case at hand.

"He has this talent," he chuckled. "Somehow, no matter who he's talking to, he manages to find a way to get them to remember stuff, even the most mundane things. Like a time or a tattoo." He shrugged. "I honestly have no idea how he does it. Nobody else on my team can do it. Hell, even I can't do it. But your son can."

"Agent Gibbs."

"Hasn't all been fun and games though," Jethro cut him off. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued. "There was that one time he got thrown out of a plane. He got pushed out on the beltway by a pissed off FBI agent." He tensed. Even thinking about this incident scared the hell out of him. "Kidnapped and left to die in a sewer." He wiped his brow. "But no matter what, he never gave up. That's what always made him so extraordinary, though. When anybody else would have given up, your son didn't. Wouldn't. He kept going, kept smiling—"

This time, he was cut off when Fanelli slammed in palms into the table. "Stop it!" he yelled.

Jethro just stared at him, drilling into the man's gaze with his own blank one. Inside, he was screaming. He wanted to hurt this man. He wanted to kill him. It was wrong, and he knew it, but he never wanted to kill someone so much in his life. Not even the man who stole his family from him. That man was a monster, but at least he didn't pretend not to be one. Pedro Hernandez at least knew that he was a waste of a human being. Fanelli could make no such claim.

"I'm telling you that your son's a hero and you don't wanna hear about it?"

Fanelli's glare intensified. Until that moment, Jethro wouldn't have thought that it was even possible. "I did nothing wrong."

Jethro leaned forward again until he was inches from the other man's face. Fury engulfed him once more. This man could actually sit here and tell him that he was innocent after everything that he had done to his own children?

"You sold your son into a slavery ring!"

He saw shock spread across Fanelli's face. It was almost like, even after all this time; he had no idea what he had subjected his own children to. "What?" he asked.

Jethro nodded. "You wanna know what those people did to your son? To your daughter? They taught them how to be the perfect whore. When they didn't behave, they were abused. Tortured." He stood up; his hands gripping the edge of the table were the only things that kept him from throwing himself across the surface and pummeling this pathetic excuse for a man to a pulp. "You know what they did to your son? They took a hot poker to his prostate because he pissed them off. Because even after his own father left him there, he never gave up, he never let them break him!" He still didn't believe that it was true, but it was a rumor, and it certainly was a good story to tell to a father like Fanelli. He leaned forward. "You know what I think? I think he went back to your home, staked it out, because he wanted to believe that you missed him. That you still gave a crap about him." His next words were barely above a whisper in Fanelli's ear. "What did he see that night? Did he see you sitting down to dinner with your family? Did he see you laugh? As if he and your daughter never even existed?"

Fanelli jumped out of his seat, not only angry, but defensive. "I love my children!"

"Really?" Jethro invaded his personal space. He kept his hands in tight fists by his side, shaking with the desire to hurt this man. "Because you got a funny way of showin' it."

"You're lying. They weren't hurt, they wouldn't do that!"

"And you know because you kept in contact with them?" He was skeptical about that, but he couldn't believe that a man could be so dumb.

"She promised me! You wouldn't understand—"

"Then make me!" he shouted. He couldn't take anymore. This man couldn't be denser if he tried, but if he expected Jethro to _condone_ what he had done, then he was dumber than the agent gave him credit for.

He grabbed the man by his shirt collar and pulled him towards the plasma screen on the wall near the door. When he turned it on, a picture of Whitmore on the autopsy table popped up. "Here! This is what they do to the kids given to them!" He watched as the color drained out of Fanelli's face. "This was your son's friend! When they were fifteen they finally managed to escape together. After your son was mutilated! And this is what they did." He grabbed the remote from the top of the screen and flipped through more of the autopsies they had done over the last few days. "And they killed him," another click, "and him and him and dozens more!" He slammed the remote on the table.

"They wouldn't do that!"

"What the hell did you think they were gonna do?"

"She said—" he started before he caught himself. Even now he refused to believe what Jethro was telling him. A part of him wished that he had filmed Whitmore's story. That would make Fanelli believe.

That was when Jethro connected it. _Damn it_, he had been so upset he missed it. A few times, Fanelli slipped. He said 'she.'

Didn't Barry tell McGee that she handed the kids over to the ring?

"Come on," he growled as he shoved DiNozzo's father out of the room.

"Where are you taking me?"

"I'm gonna show you the truth." He pulled him into the Observation Room for Interrogation 2, where Angela Barry was spilling her guts to Kate.

His agent was circling around her suspect, and judging from the look on her face, she wasn't happy about the fact that Barry talked so willingly. Jethro thought that she would have taken great pleasure in beating out a confession from a sixty year old woman.

"Tell me about the Fanelli's," Kate instructed.

Barry sighed heavily. "The twins were the youngest of six. Mr. Fanelli was out of work after an injury, they barely had enough money to pay the bills, let alone feed six kids. They were struggling. My boss kept telling me to take the kids away and put them in foster care, but he begged me not to. And I could tell, that he and his wife were starving themselves just so they could give their kids just a little more to eat. They were doing everything they could to support those kids, they just couldn't do it."

Kate scoffed. "That's not what I saw when I picked him up today." No, the house they now lived in was nice, like it cost more than Jethro made in a year.

"Daddy paid well for his children."

"That's her," Fanelli said, slowly approaching the window. "She's the one who took my kids from me. She said they would be taken care of."

"You handed over your kids for a new house?" Jethro asked disbelievingly.

"She said they would be better off."

"What did you tell him to convince him to agree? Or did you tell him the truth?" Kate sat back down so her back was to the other room.

"I told him that it was like a private foster home. I said that Daddy would raise them, teach them, and make them respectable members of the community. I told him that Daddy would pay him fifty thousand dollars for the children, each, and then they would work it off. It was like a loan."

"His children were four, he really believed that?"

"I believed it!" Barry shouted. She had tears streaming down her wrinkled cheeks. "Daddy told me he loved children, he wanted to help them, so the next generation was more useful to society than their parents were!"

"And what was it that finally made you realize that you were an idiot?" Jethro smirked at how his agent was handling this. Three brothers and two years with DiNozzo really paid off.

Barry covered her mouth with her hand; it was shaking. "I was going home for the evening one night, eighteen years ago. When I got to my house, there was a boy waiting there." She shook her head and looked towards the ceiling. "He couldn't have been older than fifteen."

Jethro's chest tightened. She was talking about DiNozzo.

Next to him, Fanelli stepped closer to listen. "He told me that he had just escaped from Daddy. And then he told me everything they had done to him." Her words wouldn't stop shaking.

Kate nodded. "Anthony Fanelli."

"It was the strangest thing I ever saw." She choked out a sob. "He was such a beautiful young boy, but, but he looked so broken. And he was so angry! I was so scared, I just wanted to get away from him, but he kept blocking my path. And then he said…" she trailed off.

Everyone listening subconsciously leaned forward. "What did he say, Angela," Kate asked quietly.

She shook her head again; she didn't even bother trying to wipe away the tears flowing down her face. "He told me Daddy took a special interest in him."

"No," Fanelli gasped next to him.

"He said," Barry continued, completely oblivious to his turmoil in the other room, "he said that Daddy was his personal instructor. He said that he would give him extra lessons and…" she stopped. She buried her face in her hands and just cried. Kate made no move to comfort her.

Next to him, Fanelli tried to grip the glass to hold him up, all the while shaking with unshed tears. "Not my boy. No, no, not my son. Not my son." His knees buckled, sending him to the floor. Jethro was barely able to catch him in time. But Fanelli didn't seem to notice. He just kept chanting, "Not my son, not my son."

"Oh god," he finally breathed out. "Oh God, what have I done? What have I done?"

Jethro felt torn. He no longer wanted to beat this man. He hated him. He hated him for being so damn stupid, but he didn't knowingly sell his son. He was just incredibly gullible.

The Fanelli's were put in an impossible situation, and then Angela Barry, a social worker, somebody they were supposed to be able to trust, walked into their lives and gave them an out too good to be true. A hundred thousand dollars could easily support their family. Daddy did everything he could to convince a couple of down-and-out parents that their children were better off with him. And Jethro wasn't sure he could hate a man for falling for it.

"Did you go to the police?" Jethro heard Kate ask.

He looked back up through the mirror to see Barry shake her head. "Anthony didn't want me to. He just begged me to take him home. He just wanted to see his parents again."

Kate nodded again. Fanelli sobbed harder. That Jethro could remain angry for. He had a second chance with his son, and he threw it away. To protect his secret, he threw it away.

"That was him, that was really him," Fanelli choked out between sobs.

Jethro's confusion grew. "You told the cops you made a mistake when you saw him."

Fanelli shook his head. "I never saw him. When I went to make a statement, the detective told _me_ I had made a mistake, that it was just a neighbor boy cutting across my yard to get home. He never let me see him."

Jethro breathed out heavily as it finally clicked. Whitmore had said that the ring had people all over the country, in every police department. Daddy was just preventing a crisis if a father found out where he had really sent his children.

Damn, he was a good businessman. A terrible person, but a good businessman.

Jethro heard a sniff from interrogation. "Anthony told me, why he escaped," Barry kept talking. For once, Jethro wanted the woman to shut up. He wasn't sure he could hear any more about what his agent—his friend—went through. It was all too much to bear as it was. But he also figured that she needed to say it. She had been living with these secrets for eighteen years, and it was eating away at her, it aged her dramatically. She needed to clear her conscience, whether the people listening wanted to hear it or not.

"Why was that Angela?" Kate asked, her voice was shaking as well.

Jethro didn't think that Fanelli could hear this anymore. He tried to pick the man up and bring him to a different room, but the older man fought him off. "No! I need to hear this."

"Mr. Fanelli—" Jethro tried to talk him out of it but the other man cut him off.

"Agent Gibbs, I need to know what I did to my children."

He didn't know how to say no. Fanelli looked so broken. He honestly thought he was giving his kids a better life, and he ended up destroying them. Jethro wanted to hate him with everything that he had, but he knew that Fanelli hated himself enough for the entire world.

He finally conceded and stood back to watch. He kept a hand at Fanelli's back to keep him upright. He had a feeling that whatever it was that made DiNozzo run away was going to be painful. Even more so than what they already heard.

"He humiliated a teacher in front of the class. The kids all laughed at him. So he decided to punish him." She wiped a tear out of her eye. "So he took him back to his office and…" she trailed off again.

Kate leaned forward and grabbed her hand, the first physical contact she made since this began. "He raped him, didn't he?"

Next to him, Fanelli took a shuddering breath.

But Barry shook her head. "No, no, what he did was much worse. He took a hot poker, forced Anthony to bend over and he, he uh, he pushed it inside of him and…"

If she said anymore, Jethro didn't hear it.

It was true. It was all true. DiNozzo was really burned. Somebody really burned his prostate. As _punishment_.

He grabbed Fanelli's collar again. "You don't need to hear anymore." He pulled him out of the room and down the hallway. The bastard side of him wanted to lock Fanelli back in an interrogation room and just disappear, but he needed to get away. Fast and he wasn't going to leave his agent's father behind.

It was true. It was all true.

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><p><strong>So... What did you think? I'd probably say more, but I'm kind of running out of time. Stupid college education.<strong>

**Bob**


	16. 16

**No, you were not mistaken, I uploaded early? Why, you may ask? Well, it's because it is officially my birthday and I am a nut job and an ego-maniacal douche bag who's hoping for at least one happy birthday. Don't mock me, I literally just got to the age where you hate getting older and birthdays lose all their coolness. Last year it was "Yey, I get to drink legally!" Now, it's "Crap, I'm starting to get old." Add on top of that, my goddaughter just turned five a week ago, which for some reason makes me feel even older than I am, and it's a big mess. So I am cheering myself up. I am updating.**

**As a head's up, I have chapter 17 written and Finlaure the Great has already sent it back to me after she did another awesome beta job, so if I can find time around my ridiculous school schedule, that shouldn't take long to update. However, because of my education and lack of sleep, I've barely even started on chapter 18, which means that updates will most likely be very slow. I'm really working on making them go faster, because as soon as this is done, I have to work on my story to get me into grad school, which is due in a few months, but it really depends on school and homework. I just wanted to give you all a fair warning. Which reminds me, I think I still have Italian homework due. I should get on that... Anyways, since most of you are probably not even reading this, I will shut up, and let you get onto what you all came here for. Which is the story. At least I hope it's the story, because if you came here just to read my author's notes, then I have to seriously reconsider my career plans.**

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><p><strong><span>16<span>**

Jethro sat at his desk with his head resting on his fist. He had stuck Fanelli in the conference room while Kate made sure that Barry was secure in interrogation. Those two were to have at least two guards at their door at all times and the only ones allowed in the room with them were Jethro and his team. No exceptions. Not even a lawyer. Especially a lawyer.

He checked his watch. It was four o'clock in the morning. It was the third day. He had seven days left. One more week before DiNozzo was lost forever.

Kate finally made it back to the room, looking far too exhausted than he preferred. He didn't think he ever saw her look so defeated before.

"She'll tell you how to find the ring?"

Kate shook her head. "She said she dropped the kids off in Georgetown, Delaware with one of Daddy's associates. He still has no name."

Georgetown, Delaware. That was the closest they'd gotten. But that still didn't get them any closer. "Search his alias, maybe he's on somebody's radar."

"You think he'd actually be in any system?" she asked skeptically.

Slamming his fist down on his desk, Jethro shouted, "No, I don't, but if he is, I don't wanna have to tell DiNozzo that we didn't even bother to look for him!"

That shut her up. She sat down behind her desk and started typing. Jethro watched the look on her face, she looked worse than she did just a moment ago. Now there was guilt added in.

Damn it, he didn't mean to do that to her. He knew that she and McGee were doing everything that they could. And every time they had a lead, it was ripped right out of their hands. It was wearing him down, but he never stopped to think how it was affecting his team.

He thought back to all the times that Kate and DiNozzo would be at each other's throats. The amount of times they teased each other, usually it was sexual. Kate wouldn't call it a day unless she somehow brought it to DiNozzo's attention that he was a pig. And now they were learning that Tony was molested, abused, and tortured in his youth. Jethro couldn't imagine the kind of guilt that Kate was feeling right now. And he was just making it worse.

She was right. There was no way that Daddy was in any database, he was too smart, had his hand in too many pockets. If he was ever put into a database, he'd be deleted only five minutes later. No, any info on Daddy would have to be on a hard copy. Or even better, stored in somebody's memory.

DiNozzo was originally from Pittsburgh and taken to Delaware. He couldn't have been the only one. That was an interstate issue. Interstate issues were FBI territory.

Maybe for once, the boys at the Hoover building could tell him something useful.

Without a word, he stood up, grabbed his things and strode to the elevator. He rode down to the parking garage and grabbed the sedan. Since it was four in the morning, he didn't expect to find Fornell at the office, so instead he drove to his home. It was probably safer that way. NCIS wasn't safe enough for Whitmore; Jethro highly doubted that the FBI was any better.

The trip was longer than he would have liked, but the roads were practically dead. They weren't empty, but he doubted that the streets were ever empty, regardless of the time of the day. He had to make a quick stop for coffee, but he eventually made his way to Fornell's house.

FBI Special Agent Tobias Fornell was a lot like Jethro in a lot of ways, except the NCIS agent was much taller and better looking. And he had more hair. Fornell also actually locked his door. Jethro never really bothered. And as he discovered, if somebody really wanted into your home, they'd find a way, lock or no lock.

He pounded on the door, hoping that the noise would be enough to wake Fornell up. He waited all of five seconds before he started pounding again. At five second intervals until the FBI agent finally opened the door, he pounded harder and harder.

When Fornell opened the door, he was wearing a bathrobe, hadn't shaved, and looked like he was ready to shoot whoever had the nerve to bother him this early in the morning.

"This couldn't wait until I was in the office?"

"DiNozzo's been kidnapped."

That certainly woke the shorter man up. He stepped aside to let Jethro inside.

"It must be pretty bad if you're coming to me."

"He was taken by a sex slavery ring." He told him the important details about the ring and Daddy, but he left out the more heartbreaking moments that DiNozzo went through. He may like Fornell, and he considered him a friend, but he didn't need everybody to know the kind of pain that his agent went through.

After he was finished, he turned back to his friend. "What do you know about this ring?"

At first, Fornell just stood there. "DiNozzo's involved in it?"

"So you know about it?"

Fornell sat down on his worn couch. It looked like it had been left over from his divorce with Diane. Diane didn't leave much behind, especially money, but she was 'kind' enough to leave behind a ratty old couch.

"I thought it was just a rumor. I never had any real leads to go on. My director told me to let it go, that I was just chasing a ghost story—"

Jethro cut him off. "Your director? He told you to let it go?"

The other man looked at him in confusion. "Yeah, a few times. Threatened to fire me if I kept looking into it. Why?"

"My witness told me that the ring has people in every level of law enforcement."

Fornell's confusion gave way to indignation. "You think my Director is involved?"

"I think he was trying to protect himself. How soon can you be ready to go?"

"He's not going to be in the office yet."

Jethro just smiled. "So?" If he wasn't in the office it would mean they'd have to bug him at home. He was going to have great fun in destroying this man's life.

Fornell stood up, Jethro could see the fear on his face as he spoke. "Gibbs, you can't just go into the Director of the FBI's home and accuse him of something like this! It's career suicide!"

"I don't give a damn about my career, I care about getting my agent back!" He stepped into Fornell's personal space and glared him down. "I'm offering you the biggest break of your career and you're afraid?"

The two of them stared at each other for a while. They didn't move, they didn't speak. All they did was glare at each other, waiting for the other to crack.

But Jethro wasn't going to crack. One week. He had one week until he lost DiNozzo into the ring, and he was a few inches away from finding this damn place once and for all. He liked Fornell, but he wasn't going to back away just so he could keep his job.

"Gimme a minute," Fornell finally said as he walked out of the room to get changed.

Jethro smiled. He knew that he would win. He actually thought it would take longer. That was when his smile fell. If Fornell was that willing to face a man who could easily destroy his career, it was because he understood how crucial this case was. He knew that DiNozzo was in danger.

He pushed his feelings to the side once more. He needed to stay focused. They were close, so close, to breaking this case wide open and rescuing his agent. He needed to focus on that. He couldn't waste time wondering what was happening to DiNozzo as he stood there.

A few minutes went by before Fornell came out in his usual suit, although it looked more put together than he usually did. Jethro guessed that this is what he usually looked like before the job made his haggard.

"You ready to destroy our careers, Gibbs?"

Jethro just nodded.

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><p><strong>*Sings* Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me! Happy birthday to me...<strong>

**That was too much, and this was really short. But! Could this be? Are they actually going to be able to locate the ring? Are we going to finally see Tony again in a handful of chapters?**

**Bob**


	17. 17

**Few things, as I said last chapter, because of school, updates from now on will be slow, especially with the school schedule I have. In fact as soon as I'm done posting this, I get to do my Italian homework. Not what I call fun.**

**Now, moving on, since today is the anniversary of 9/11, I would like if everybody took a moment to reflect, for the religious people please say a prayer, to all those who either lost their lives, or lost a loved one on that day. Also, if it isn't a problem, if you could say a prayer to the SEALs who were killed after they killed bin Laden.**

**And finally, my amazing beta, Finlaure, is from Texas, and they are going through a terrible drought. Wildfires have destroyed thousands of acres of land. If you can keep Texas and its people in your thoughts and prayers, it will be much appreciated. http(colon)/www(dot)boston(dot)com /bigpicture/2011/09/texas_drought_and_wildfires(dot)html. **

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><p><strong><span>17<span>**

It was almost five by the time they made it to the director's home. He lived on King Street in Alexandria in a house more expensive than Jethro could ever afford. He wasn't sure if it was because of his legit job, or a payoff for keeping the FBI off the ring's trail.

The first thing he did when the two of them approached the door was try the knob, hoping to really throw the old bastard for a loop. Unfortunately, it was locked, with three dead bolts. Paranoid didn't begin to cover this man.

With a glare, Fornell knocked calmly. Jethro just gave him a look, unable to voice his annoyance that the other man was being so calm right now. His boss was knowingly turning his back on everything he should have believed in, and he was getting away with it because of his job title. This didn't deserve subtlety and respect. This man deserved a beating and an interrogation room. At the least.

After a few seconds past and they hadn't gotten an answer, Jethro slammed his fist into the wood several times. It was apparently strong enough to let off the car alarm in the drive way. He smiled proudly about that.

He heard pounding inside of somebody moving quickly down the stairs. His smile grew.

Only moments later, the director of the FBI stood before them, in a pink fluffy bathrobe.

He immediately turned to Fornell. "Tobias what the hell is this? It couldn't wait until we got to the office?"

"I'm sorry Director, Sir, but—"

Once again, Jethro cut him off. Only this time, instead of saying anything, he pushed back the director and stormed into his home.

The other two tried calling after him, but he ignored them.

If he thought the outside of the house was impressive, it had nothing on the inside. Everything was large and expensive, but fit the room perfectly

"Tobias what is he doing?" the director asked angrily.

"Gibbs!" Fornell shouted out panicked.

Still, he kept to his search. He checked behind every door that he could find, checked to see if there were hidden doors in every crease in the wall.

"That's it! Get the hell out of my house! Tobias, arrest this man!"

"I'm afraid I can't do that, Sir."

"What the hell are you talking about?"

The two kept arguing, while Jethro kept searching. When Fornell implicated his boss in the ring, the shouting grew louder. Jethro started to get worried. Either the director hadn't bought a slave at some point in time, or he really didn't have a clue about the ring, because by now he was on the second floor and still hadn't found his prisoner.

"What are you doing here?" he heard from behind him. It was a woman's voice, and she was scared. He couldn't blame her. He was a stranger, barging around inside of her home.

Slowly he turned around with his hands raised to let her know that he meant her no harm.

But when he faced her, his gut dropped. The director looked like he was a few years older than Jethro, and he aged worse. His wife looked like she was barely thirty-five, and had already gone through a few Botox injections. She was stunning. Her legs were hairless, as if there hadn't been a single hair on those long tan legs in years. She was in fantastic shape, as though she spent more time at the gym than at home, and her nightgown was little more than a thin negligee.

Jethro dropped his hands. A few days ago he would have just assumed this poor woman was a Trophy Wife, but now, as she uttered the words, "Are you going to kill me?" with a look, not of fear, but of relief, he knew that wasn't the case.

He shook his head. "I'm going to save you," he whispered out.

She took a step back, the terror coming back full force to her beautiful face. She started frantically shaking her head as tears leaked out of her eyes. "No, no no no, you can't. You can't."

He moved towards her and took her into his arms. She was tiny, her head barely reaching his chest. From his angle, he could clearly see the XS on her back. "It's ok, you're safe now."

"No I'm not," she sobbed into his chest. "I'll never be safe."

He heard pounding come up the stairs. Judging by the sound of it, it was the director. Jethro pulled the woman away from him and gently lead her back to her bedroom. "Pack your things. Whatever you want to take with you." Then he went back into the hallway and pulled his gun off his hip.

The director stood before him, panting in his fuzzy pink robe. His face was turning purple and veins were popping out of his neck. "Get out of my house," he ground out through his teeth.

Jethro glared him down. "I found what I was looking for."

It was subtle, almost not there, but Jethro still caught it. He paled.

As if he wasn't caught in a lie, he shook his head. "That's impossible." He stood up a little straighter and tried to appear as terrifying as his title demanded. It was hard to do; Jethro had just spotted rhinestones on his pink bathrobe. "I am the Director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations. I will not be spoken to like this!"

His wife chose that moment to step out into the hallway. She was wearing a men's Rolex watch.

Again, the director paled. "Jasmine. What are you doing?"

For a moment, she turned to the agent, as if asking for his help, or support. Or maybe she was asking him to handle this for her. But she needed this. She needed the closure, not him. His closure would come when he found DiNozzo.

After a moment, she turned back to her husband. "My name is Madeline!" She chucked a picture frame that she got from a hall table at his head, he was barely able to avoid it. "And I'm getting the hell away from you!"

Jethro carefully led the woman down the stairs, past her 'husband,' to a waiting Fornell. When the other agent saw her, his mouth fell open as the blood left his face. "Jasmine? Gibbs."

"It's Madeline," she corrected. She kept her head down, just staring at the pile of things she had in her hands. A few clothes, nothing too spectacular. Most of her belongings were expensive things belonging to her husband. Neither man said anything about that.

"Take her outside, find a safe place that she can stay," Jethro said to his friend as he nudged the woman forward. Fornell nodded as he placed a hand at the small of her back and took her outside.

Jethro turned back to the stairs as the director came down into the room. "Look, I don't know what you think is going on around here—"

Jethro cut him off. "I think you bought your wife and kept her prisoner here."

The director scoffed. "You have no proof of that!"

"The tattoo on her back was a dead giveaway," Jethro answered, much calmer than he thought possible.

But the director didn't budge. "My wife has a tattoo and that automatically means I bought her? Is that really all the evidence you have against me?"

"A tattoo that every slave involved has." He stepped closer to the man. "Or what about the fact that you call her Jasmine when her name's Madeline? You think Jasmine sounds sexier?" He arched an eyebrow in disbelief. But the more he talked, he realized how uncomfortable the director was becoming.

But he straightened himself out and said in his most intimidating voice, "Whatever you think is going on here is completely ludicrous, now I want you out of my house and to bring my wife back—"

As soon as those words left his mouth, Jethro reacted.

He wasn't going to hand that woman over to him. He wasn't going to let her down. Not her too.

He slammed the director against the wall and shoved his gun under the other man's chin. He noted a few things being this close to the scumbag. One; he had a birthmark in his left eye. And two; he was a bureaucrat, but he never saw the field. Jethro figured that out when the man started shaking. When he felt heat radiating from between the director's legs, he took a step back.

"I don't care what you think I have or don't have. You're gonna tell me how to contact the ring, you're gonna help me get my agent back. Am I clear?"

"Please," the word could barely make it out of the man's mouth because of his shaking. "Please don't hurt me."

"Then tell me how to contact the ring!" He had completely lost it. He didn't have any control anymore. At all. When he thought that before he had lost it, he was wrong. He was still holding on to a thread, but that thread was frayed beyond repair now. Hearing Fanelli and Barry talk about what happened to DiNozzo, seeing this bastard act like his _slave_ was his equal partner sent him completely over the edge of sanity. He knew that if he didn't get answers in the next few seconds, he would put a bullet in this man's chin. The only reason why he hadn't pulled the trigger yet was because he was still hoping that he would be helpful. That he would lead Jethro to find DiNozzo. But if he couldn't help, then the agent wouldn't spare his life. He just didn't give a damn anymore. About his job, or his freedom. None of it mattered.

The director swallowed a lump in his throat before he spoke, "The ring… the ring gives you a specific phone to use to contact them. It's untraceable, immediately reroutes to twenty different countries, the only thing it can hold is the ring's phone number."

"Where is it?"

The director shook his head. "It's, it's in my safe. Downstairs."

Jethro roughly grabbed his shoulder and pulled him towards the staircase. From there, the director led the way to the safe. Jethro made sure to keep his gun on the man, so he wouldn't get any ideas about trying to trick him. It worked. Either that or the man was just too much of a coward to try anything. The agent didn't really care either way.

Only a few moments later, he was holding the phone in his hand. It was a simple phone, cheaper looking than his own. It was a normal looking silver phone with a small screen and three rows of buttons.

But he was terrified just holding it.

This phone was what was going to get him his agent back. All he had to do was make a call, and he would be led straight to DiNozzo. So much was riding on this tiny little piece of technology, and he didn't know how to deal with that.

"This will connect me to Daddy?"

The director shook his head. "Daddy Warbucks retired a few months back."

Jethro blinked. "Daddy Warbucks?" _Annie_ was one of Kelly's favorite movies as a child, as a result, Jethro saw it over a thousand times—he could still sing 'It's a Hard Knock Life' word for word. The fact that this monster used the name of a much loved character from his daughter's favorite movie made the agent desperately want to shower.

"He said it was because he was taking unwanted kids and giving them a better life."

"You really got chummy with that bastard, didn't you, Director?" Jethro sneered. The director visibly shrank two inches. "Who's in charge now?"

"Amalea. She used to be a dependent herself until her caretaker died. She went back home and Daddy handed the reins over to her." The agent found himself even more disgusted with the man before him. _Dependent, caretaker_. It was like he thought that using different words made the situation better. "There's something you should probably know, Agent Gibbs," the director continued, oblivious to Jethro's inner disgust. "Amalea does serious background checks on everybody that calls her. Making an alias today isn't going to pass muster with her."

"Don't worry about that." He grabbed the director and started leading him out the door.

The other man struggled. "Hey! What are you doing? You can't arrest me!" He started calling out louder as they walked outside. "I am a director of the Federal Bureau of Investigations."

"Who bought a woman and used her as your own personal sex slave." He smiled at the idea of throwing the son of a bitch in a holding cell. "And I can't really risk you blabbing to _Amalea_ that I'm a cop, now can I?" Amalea. That was a stupid name.

"Even if I don't talk, she's going to know you're a cop. You'll barely make it through the front door before she has you killed!"

Jethro's smile widened. That was a risk he would gladly take.

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><p><strong>Ok, since my beginning author's note was filled with requests and sad thoughts, how about this for excitement, only a few more chapters, probably three or so, and we get to see Tony again! Now the question is, how will he have survived? Has he been broken? I don't really know, since it isn't written yet, but soon! E ora, Arrivaderci ragazzi! <strong>

**Di la tua amica,**

**Bob**


	18. 18

***Smacks face on keyboard* Ow. Ok, I owe you all an explanation. Fair warning, it is long. So as you know, I recently started my latest semester of school, and I'm going to two separate schools. My schedule for this semester is weird, to say the least, Monday Wednesday and Friday I'm in school until after eight (and before you ask, no I'm not skipping, class was cancelled today in celebration of Columbus Day), last week, I spent most of my time trying to write, and get research for a paper in one of my classes, on top of ridiculously stupid homework for my Photoshop class, and compositions in Italian. Most of the time I've been able to write is before class starts, and then I was so tired, or I had too much homework, to transfer what I had in my notebook to my computer. And on top of that, my beta reader had a very bad experience with the fandom over on LiveJournal and decided to take a hiatus from the fandom, and I can't really blame her for that, I ended up cancelling my LJ account because of that. But, in relation to the story, I had to find yet another beta reader (I'm starting to think I'm jinxed) which I did in the wonderful Lialle who wonderfully and amazingly took this chapter and kicked my ass to get it to be worthy of such a long absence. Did she succeed? I don't know, that's up to you, but just so everybody knows, this chapter was terrible before, and she was able to bump it up to at least mediocre. That deserves a round of applause.**

**Moving on, I swear, I am not trying to be mean, or intentionally make you guys wait or anything, I really wish I had gotten this chapter up before now, and I keep making empty promises and not fulfilling them and I am so sorry. Real life sucks, I guess is the moral of this story. But since I have the rest of the evening off and I already did my homework for tomorrow, I'm going to just keep my ass writing until I want to throw my laptop across the room. Then hopefully, if all goes well, I can get the rest of the story up in a timely manor.**

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><p><strong>18 <strong>

When Jethro made it back to the Yard, the first person he went was to see was Morrow. He began to tell him that he had the director of the FBI in lock-up with an armed guard, but it took ten minutes of being yelled at before he was finally able to explain to him about Madeline and how the man had bought her and kept her prisoner. Then it took another five minutes of apologies before they could finally agree to move Madeline to a safe house. She was currently being guarded by a few of Kate's old Secret Service buddies. Jethro knew that it was a good idea to hire a bodyguard, which seemed even more apparent now.

When that was done, the two made their way down to Abby's lab. They had decided that it would be best if Jethro used Morrow as his undercover alias, seeing as Morrow was a big name in the city. If Amalea went looking for him it would be far too easy for her find a good deal about him. The only things the forensic scientist needed to change on his ID were the photo , his age and his vision. Morrow was, after all, a few years older than his agent. They also had to change his vision on his driver's license due to the fact that Jethro was planning to go in with a lens cam, and he needed it to appear as though he wore glasses all the time.

After a few minutes, Abby solemnly looked up and gave him the nod, letting him know that his alias was set and updated. All that was left to do was make the call.

Jethro stared down at the phone he got from Director Axel for a good five minutes before he finally hit the call button. He kept waiting for something to go wrong. It couldn't be helped. After all, Amalea didn't have to touch him to torture him. She was a step ahead of him at every turn. How was Jethro to know that she wasn't already aware that he was a cop? For all he knew, DiNozzo was already dead. He fought to suppress the shake in his hand as more thoughts plagued his mind. Images of finding DiNozzo's dead body in some alleyway popped up that made him sick to his stomach. If only his agent told him about his childhood, he could have protected him. Now it all felt like it was too late to do anything.

Before anymore thoughts like that could enter his mind, he hit the send button and put the phone to his ear. It was picked up after three rings.

"State your access code," said a man with a deep raspy voice. For a moment, Jethro thought he was talking to Louie Armstrong.

"Guest of 22527," he responded.

'_Louie'_ as Jethro decided to call him, was quiet for a moment. The feeling in Jethro's gut intensified before the man spoke again, "Please hold."

Jethro and Axel had already gone through what he was going to say before he left the director in lock-up.

The music playing in his ear was generic elevator music that ground his nerves with all of its cheerfulness. He would have preferred something dark and depressing, it would have fit the situation better.

When the music stopped there was a new voice, and this time it was female. Jethro's heart jumped, his palms beginning to sweat. Louie had put him on directly with Amalea. He would never admit it out loud, but in that moment, he was scared. Axel never said that this was common practice. Was he already found out? Did she know that he was a cop?

"Hello? State your access code, please," she said again. Jethro didn't know how long he kept her waiting, but judging by her tone, it had been a while.

He repeated the number Axel gave him. Abby was staring at him in confusion, but he ignored her.

"And your name?"

"Tom Morrow."

"Don't be nervous, Mr. Morrow, I understand this is sometimes embarrassing for new clients. I am surprised, though, this is the first time Director Axel recommended us to anyone."

Jethro nodded, even though she couldn't see it. "I finally wore him down, I guess." His two companions stared at him in shock, but he didn't know why, nor did he care at this point.

He heard her chuckle. "Well, thank you for that. So, as you probably know, I'm Amalea. Now what can I do for you?"

"Axel said you have an auction coming up."

"In a week."

"Are there any seats available?"

He could almost hear the smile in her voice as she said, "I'm sure I can find one. For a fee."

"I know." According to the director, it was two thousand for just a seat, and that didn't take into account the actual bidding. Dependents, what they called the slaves, typically started at ten grand. The beautiful ones, or the ones who "graduated" at the top of their "class," went for higher.

"Good. Of course, the price for new clients comes with a tour and a free trial before the auction."

Jethro scratched his scalp. "Are you going to be able to fit me in in time?"

"Absolutely, Mr. Morrow. The phone has a built in GPS, it will lead us directly to you. My men will pick you up and take you to our humble abode. Is that alright with you, Mr. Morrow?" It was a challenge that made Jethro's stomach lurch, and his anger to rise. Axel never said anything about a GPS.

"It's Director, actually." He was glad he had used Morrow as his alias, or he'd be screwed right now.

"Really? Do you mind if I ask what agency?" Another test. The agent wondered how many directors Amalea had in her pocket.

"NCIS."

He heard her make a noise in the back of her throat. "And, uh, when do you think you'll be able to come for your trial?"

"How about tomorrow?"

"So soon?"

Damn, this woman was paranoid. "Why wait?"

"Not very patient, are you, Director? Well, I'm sure we can find somebody perfect for you next week. My men will pick you up tomorrow."

"Do you mind if I ask when and where?"

Amalea chuckled. "Don't worry, Director. We are very discreet."

Jethro wanted to say something scathing, but decided against it at the last minute. Instead, he thanked her for her time and hung up.

Abby and Morrow looked at him in a mix of worry and curiosity.

"How did it go?" Morrow asked.

Jethro didn't say anything as he walked out of the door. He didn't want to tell them he was walking to his death.

_**Smilest, with autumn's russet in thy hair**_

When Amalea hung up the phone, she couldn't shake the feeling in her gut that something was wrong. The fact that this man was the director of NCIS, the same agency her new dependent had worked for, made her queasier than she had been before her first abortion

Francis stood in the corner, waiting for instructions. She turned to him with her face tight with worry. "I want a full background check. Contact people who know him. I want proof that the man they know is the same one who walks through that door."

"Amalea, if I may, why not just send Kort after him?"

She couldn't control the laugh that escaped. "Kill the head of a Federal Agency? Are you really that stupid? They're my best clients!" NCIS was the only director not on her payroll; this was her big chance to have him in her pocket. "Besides, for all we know, he's legitimate. And I can't risk it if he is."

"But the new guy—"

She cut him off. "The new guy is my concern, not yours. Now go and do what I told you." With that, Francis took his leave. Now all she had for company were her racing thoughts.

Amalea felt like she was caught between a rock and a concrete building strapped with explosives. This was something she had never dealt with in all her time as head of the ring. Before today, if someone gave her problems, she'd just have them killed, like she did with Casey.

For the first time, she agreed with Francis that bringing Tony home was a bad idea. She never thought she would say that, and she would probably kill the oaf if he ever found out about it. But if she hadn't brought Tony back, she wouldn't be second guessing Morrow.

She picked up the phone again and dialed a number she was beginning to memorize.

"Samson," answered the Director of the CIA after two rings

"It's Amalea. I have a job for Kort."

"Ah, I'm starting to think you only want me for my Dependent. Well, of course, I'm going to need something in return."

Amalea rolled her eyes. "Same man?"

Samson scoffed through the receiver. "Do you have anybody better?"

She smiled. Warmly. She had to admit, she liked Samson's way of dealing with things more than Jerry. Jerry was always bitching and complaining about her using Harris. All Samson wanted was a free trial and he would let Kort do anything she wanted him to.

"I can probably squeeze you in for two days from now. How does that sound?"

"Perfect."

"Good. But for the record, this isn't a final solution project. I want intel, not bodies."

Samson was silent for a few moments. "I don't think I've ever heard you so cautious before. Is everything alright, Amalea?"

She rolled her eyes. Of course everything wasn't alright, she brought a man back to the ring over fifteen years after he left, and now his boss wanted in. Director Axel had never once referred anyone in all the time he covered her ass with the Bureau. And he decided to do so now. With the Director of NCIS of all places. Things were very far from alright. But her relationship with Samson, while enjoyable, was not nearly personal enough to talk about this. "Everything's fine, I'm just taking a few preemptive measures. Do you think Kort can handle it?"

"My boy can handle anything, you know that. So, who's the target this time?" Samson asked.

"Director Tom Morrow of NCIS. And make sure Kort knows to follow, but not engage." She hung up before Samson could say anything else.

She jumped out of her seat. She had one more person to question about Morrow before tomorrow. She figured a few hours in Tough Love would loosen his tongue.

* * *

><p><strong>For the record, this looked much longer in my notebook. It's hard to determine how long something is going to be when transferring from a notebook to a computer. But, now that the undercover op is being set up, things are going to go much quicker. Hopefully. I'm still working out the kinks in my writing style. I'm young and this takes a lot of practice, so thank you for sticking with me as I figure all this stuff out.<strong>

**Bob**


	19. 19

**Well, it's only been like what? A week this time? So it's not as bad. Right? Right? Ok, so it's still a really short chapter, but it used to be even shorter! (Seriously, transferring from notebook to computer just makes everything so damn short!) But my wonderful beta Lialle gave me back her changes tonight, so I decided to get this up before I went to bed. Do I get props for that? No? Ok.**

**I would like to point out that this chapter contains a torture scene, and it is pretty darn graphic. So if that bothers you, I suggest skipping over the last half of the chapter.**

**In other news, for anyone who is interested, or cares, I resigned up for LJ (I know, I sound like a hypocrite, since last update I told you how I quit, but I still stand by that decision) after a long and grueling talk with some of my online friends, and the three of us agreed to make our own community. And that is up and running, it is called Tibbsrant, since I can't really link other than tibbsrant (dot) livejournal (dot) com, if you go to LJ, type in Tibbsrant in the search, it should pull it right up. There isn't much there, because I'm currently the only member, so if anybody wants to, the comm is meant for people who are fans of Gibbs & Tony, whether slash, father/son, friendship or whatever. We don't care. But one of the biggest points about this comm is that we allow off topic discussions and personal rants (hence the name) so long as they're clearly marked and kept in separate posts. In my little history post, I pointed out that after the problems that my friend had on the other comm, I wanted to make a place where nobody is ever singled out and hurt like that again. So please, I beg of you, check it out and hopefully we can make it something.**

**And on an unrelated note, NaNoWriMo starts in a few weeks. And I only bring this up because I'm making a newsletter for NaNo for a college assignment and it's kind of stuck in my head. So I urge all writers and especially readers to partake. Even if you don't think you're a good writer (a lot of people who participate probably aren't, hell the guy who founded it keeps saying that his writing sucks), it's a fun time and might make you feel a little more confident that you were able to write 50 thousand words in a month. As they say at NaNoWriMo, it's not about quality, it's about quantity.**

**And now, onward!**

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><p><strong>19<strong>

He was half tempted to take the stairs, not necessarily because he thought they were faster, but because it felt quicker to be constantly moving. Standing in an elevator made you immobile and could make you feel like the seconds were ticking by painfully slow. Even so, Jethro decided to take the lift. If nothing else, he didn't want to be winded when he confronted Axel.

When he stepped out of the metal box, he immediately went to lock-up. There he found his target, still wearing his fluffy pick robe, shaking because the monster another agent caught a few hours ago kept leering at him. Jethro felt no sympathy for the man.

He told the agent keeping watch to open the cell. He waited ten seconds for him to locate the right key, but yanked the ring from the man's grasp with an irritated growl and opened the damn door himself on the first try. Jethro then threw the keys over his shoulder and grabbed Axel by his lapels. The robe was soft, he noticed absently.

"You forgot to tell me something, Axel," Jethro said with a sneer, shoving him up against the bars. The limp man cowered in his grasp.

The director shook his head. "No I didn't! I told you everything! I told you a-all I knew about how to contact the ring." Liquid dripped down the quivering man's thighs, a rancid stench permeating the cell. The monster in the other cell grunted in revulsion, glaring at the director.

Jethro rolled his eyes, no longer surprised at how pitiful the man was acting. He pulled Axel forward and slammed him against the bars again. Axel cried out in a mixture of shock and pain. "You forgot to mention that the phone has a GPS in it!" Jethro growled.

But the director seemed to finally grow a backbone. "You didn't ask!" he screamed out, trying to push the agent away from him. Before Jethro even knew what he was doing, he had backhanded Axel across the face.

The director fell to the floor, cradling his cheek and staring up at Jethro in horror. The agent playing guard ran towards the cell screaming the entire time, but Jethro kicked the door shut, locking it in place.

"Oh yeah! Now it's a party," came from the other cell.

Axel tried to scoot as far away from his as possible, but the room was so small, his options were limited. If he moved one way, he'd be that much closer to the agent who struck him. If he moved another way, he'd be closer to the monster who wanted to make him his bitch.

The other agent ran to grab the keys in a desperate attempt to get Jethro away from the director. But Jethro didn't care about any of it. He didn't care about his job, or the criminal in the next cell, he didn't give a flying fuck about anything anymore. Axel would gladly have had him killed to cover his own ass. And that was all that mattered right now.

He was shaking with anger, wanting to beat this man to death. But he held back as the young agent finally found the right key. The door swung open as Jethro started to speak. "You're going to tell me everything about the ring. Every detail, every name, and if they have a secret God damned handshake, you're going to tell me that too. You try anything like this again, and I'll kill you." Jethro's level voice, his carefully spoken words and his sharp eyes all had the director shivering on the floor. He turned to the other agent.

"Agent Gibbs, you need to leave," the boy said before he could open his mouth again.

He just nodded. "Bring him to an interrogation room." With that, Jethro took his leave. He had one more person to deal with before he spoke to the director again.

By the time he reached the conference room, his anger started to die down, but he still had a sense of fury boiling under his skin. That all changed when the guards outside the door stopped and searched him. In place of the anger, a sense of pride rose inside of him. He was the one who put these boys at their post, he personally interviewed and vetted them to make sure they were right for the job, and they still stopped him. When they did that, he knew he picked the right men to handle this assignment. If even he had a hard time getting past them, he couldn't imagine somebody from the ring being able to.

Once they were done and he was cleared, they gave him a wry smile and moved out of the way to let him past. Jethro graced them with a rare grin and a nod of approval before he walked past them. Then he heard a pair of relieved sighs before he shut the door behind him.

When he entered the room, Fanelli was sitting at the table with his head in his hands, shoulders shaking with silent sobs. He looked more defeated than Jethro had felt in the last few days. It was a hard sight to stomach.

"Did you find him?" Fanelli asked when he looked up. His eyes were red-rimmed, his cheeks were wet, and his voice held so much emotion, so much desperation, that Jethro had to swallow down the lump in his throat.

"We know where to look," was all he said. He couldn't tell this man that the chances of bringing his son home were slim. Jethro had already put the man through so much pain, he wasn't going to kill him as well. He pulled the chair out opposite Fanelli, sitting down and watching the man with a sadness and pity he hadn't expected he would feel.

"Are you here to arrest me?" He didn't sound scared by the prospect. It was almost like he expected it, even perhaps welcomed it.

But Jethro shook his head. "Wasn't plannin' on it." It was true, he wasn't. Jethro felt that knowing what he had done to his children was punishment enough.

"I sold my children, Gibbs. I deserve to die in prison."

"You thought you were doing the right thing by your family."

Fanelli chuckled bitterly. "Does that make any difference? I got enough money to pay a few bills and put a decent down payment on a house. You were right, Gibbs, I traded my children for a house." He took a deep, steadying breath to calm his nerves before he slid something across the table. It was a photo.

Two small children, no older than four or five, looked back at him with bright smiling faces. He knew that boy was Dinozzo, he would recognize those eyes anywhere. He was a beautiful little boy, full of such innocent glee as he played with his sister's pigtails. The girl was clearly his twin. Her hair was dark brown, but her eyes and smile were an exact copy of her brother's.

"I look at that picture every day," Fanelli said after a minute. "This was the last photo I ever took of them." He smiled fondly at the memory. "Amy and Anthony were always close. They would drive their mother and I nuts. There was one time," he let out a quick chuckle as a gleam came into his eye, "I came home from job hunting, and Anthony came running towards me, shouting how Amy chased him around the house with a baseball bat, that my wife gave her."

Jethro quirked an eyebrow.

Fanelli chuckled again. "Amy was playing with her toys, when Tony switched the light off on her. So she got up and calmly turned it back on. As soon as she sat down, he turned the light back off. After fifteen minutes of that, Amy just let out a scream, picked up a bat and started chasing him. My wife, of course, took the bat from her when she realized it was a metal bat." He paused for a moment to wipe a tear out of his eye. "Then she handed over a plastic one."

The two men laughed. Jethro could just imagine the look on that little boy's face when he saw his mother condoning his sister attacking him. "Tony deserved that."

"That's precisely what I told him!" Fanelli sobered up then, his eyes downcast and the sadness was back. "Angela Barry took them a week later. I haven't seen them since."

The mirth in the room disappeared, only to be replaced by an intense sadness. "Is my daughter dead, Gibbs?" Fanelli asked after five minutes of agonizing silence.

Jethro shook his head. "I don't know." They hadn't been able to find Amy DiNozzo yet but that didn't mean anything to these people. For all Jethro knew, she was living as a slave for some politician on the hill. Or if she was lucky, she was able to run away at some point.

Fanelli sighed heavily. "After what Tony went through, I almost wish she was."

_**Smilest, with autumn's russet in thy hair**_

Amalea hated how long it took him to break down. It just meant she had to be standing in this room longer than she wanted. He was too damn stubborn. It was as if he was trying to prove he was stronger than everyone else here. But then he finally screamed.

"Tell me about Director Morrow and I'll make it stop," she said when his screaming finally died down.

He was panting heavily but he still didn't talk.

She gave the nod to Francis. He shoved the rubber mouthpiece back into his mouth and flipped the switch. Six thousand volts of electricity flowed through his body. He was crying, screaming in agony around the mouth guard. Amalea kept her eyes trained over his shoulder. She didn't want him to know this bothered her. She needed to be strong, she couldn't show any weakness, but just being here made her queasy. This room was her biggest nightmare as a child, and here she was, sitting back and ordering someone else to endure it. It made her want to vomit. But she couldn't let _him _know that.

After almost a minute, Francis flipped the electricity off. He slumped in the chair panting and crying silent tears. Even though they were breaking him, he still tried to pretend he was doing alright. A part of Amalea wanted him to just give in already so she could end this. Francis moved over and pulled the mouth guard out.

"Tell me what I want to know," she said again.

He just glared.

With a roll of her eyes, she turned back to her flunkie. "Unstrap him."

The man tensed, while Francis' grin widened into a Cheshire Cat smile. He took great pleasure in unstrapping the man and hooking him into the handcuffs dangling from the ceiling. His head lolled forward. After all the current she just pumped into his system, Amalea couldn't blame him.

After a moment of searching, Francis finally found his favorite toy. A rubber tube they cut from a hose line filled with rocks. It wouldn't leave a mark. None of the tools they had left any marks. No bruises, no cuts. They were in the business of beauty, after all, they couldn't damage the merchandise.

Francis grabbed his chin and whispered in his ear, "You are going to talk, pretty boy."

The man just grunted.

With a smile, Francis started. He began with his shoulder blades, which caused him to groan, but after the electricity flowing through his veins the hose probably felt nice in comparison. So Francis moved lower down his back, hitting the same spots with increasing force at least fifteen times before moving down. Still, the man held in his screams.

"The front," Amalea shouted impatiently.

The man tensed again. Francis circled around him, running the hose across the man's bare skin. Amalea watched the man's chest expand as he held his breath. Her lackie grinned before pulling back and whipping the man between his legs.

The man cried out in pain and tried to double over, but the cuffs prevented him from going far. Francis wound back and hit him just as hard in the same spot. Again, the man cried out in pain, tears prickling in his eyes.

Amalea watched, her stomach growing queasy, but her role as head of this operation prevented her from turning away. She couldn't show weakness. Daddy had taught her that when she returned. She especially couldn't show weakness with this man. Daddy had done that. He had fallen in love with this man when he was just a small child, and he had given him too many freedoms because of it. Because of Daddy's weakness the man had run away, thinking he was better than the rest of them. Better than Amalea.

She smiled fondly at her next thought. After she brought him home, she called Daddy to tell him the good news. He was so proud of her. He was even prouder when she told him that she wouldn't just hand the man over, Daddy would have to pay just like everyone else.

But now she was terrified beyond belief that everything, all that she and Daddy had built, would come crashing down. All because of this damn man.

"Hit him harder!" She shouted, her fear and indignity fraying the ends of her words.

Francis dropped the hose and picked up another weapon, a whip with a softer shell but harder center. It was much more solid, but resulted in the same end. No marks. He wheeled back and struck his target again.

The man screamed.

* * *

><p><strong>I'd like to point out that, as most of you know, I like to take personal experiences and incorporate them into my stories, so the part about Tony's sister chasing him around with a baseball bat is based completely in fact. I'd also like to point out that I was four and don't even remember doing it, but my mother loves to tell the story because she did actually hand me the plastic bat to keep chasing him around. But hey, it's not like she let me do it with the metal bat. That would be bad parenting. A plastic one is just good old fashioned sibling love. <strong>

**So, talk to me, and I hope you enjoyed. Well, ok, maybe not enjoy, since I was talking about torture, but... ok I don't know what emotions you should be feeling right now. But let me know what you feel, I guess.**

**Bob**


	20. 20

**Why don't I just say I suck at life? Really? Fortunately, I was able to get my homework for the week done early, so I've been writing, and writing, and writing. And I have four days to get this story finished before NaNoWriMo starts, and I fully intend to make my deadline. By the time December rolls around, I will probably not want to write again for quite a while, but. Not giving up. I will do this! Chapter 21 is already written, just needs to be betaed, and then we are golden!**

**And this took so long, I'm going to shut up and give you the chapter.**

* * *

><p><strong>20<strong>

Jethro believed that he'd gotten everything he could out of Axel. It didn't seem like much, but Jethro was still confident that he got everything that mattered. Now all that remained was making sure the rest of the operation was going to plan.

Abby fitted the glasses cam on his face. "How does that feel? Comfy?"

"It's fine, Abs," he growled. He was sick of standing here. He just wanted to get this over with and find out if DiNozzo was still alive.

She pulled the glasses off and glared. "Gibbs, you're walking into the lion's den, if everything about your look isn't one hundred percent on the money, both you and Tony are dead! Glasses are meant to fit exactly on the face, if they don't, Amalea will know that you don't wear glasses and then—"

"Abby!" He yelled as her voice grew more hysterical. Her already large eyes grew even wider, shocked that he would yell at her. He had to do it, he reassured himself. Nothing good came out of worrying this much.

Finally, he told her, "The bridge is loose."

Abby nodded as she blinked back tears. "I can fix that." She pulled the glasses off and silently went back into her office.

Jethro ground his teeth in annoyance. He loved Abby, almost like she was his own daughter, but there were times, like now, that her constant need to be babied got on his nerves. He didn't have the time to waste coddling her. She needed to grow up and deal.

He turned to the door as Fornell walked in. He had spent the better part of the morning rounding up as many FBI agents that he could. He and Kate were going to try and follow him when he got picked up by Amalea's men. They weren't going to need agents until the day of the auction. Both Fornell and Jethro agreed that it was best to get as many bastards connected to the ring as possible.

"You all set?" he asked.

"Almost." He was wearing one of Morrow's suits, he had his entire life memorized, and already hand-picked two agents to take him home. He couldn't risk bringing McGee, not after he thought about Jones' crime scene. The way Tony just stopped working, frightened about something. Somebody from the ring was at the Mall that day. For all he knew it was Amalea herself. Jethro was risking enough by going in, he wasn't going to risk McGee's life as well.

Fornell nodded. "Morrow's set up at the safe house, and his family was moved out of town."

"Who knows about the safe house?"

"Just me. Don't worry, Gibbs, I do know what I'm doing."

Jethro didn't say anything, he just nodded. Fornell tried to say something else, but Jethro wasn't listening.

He hated this part of the job. He wanted to just storm the place, get everybody out now and get his agent back. But he knew that was a bad idea. These people were too powerful, had their hands in too many pockets. And if he was going to risk his job, freedom and his very life to take these bastards down, he was going to damn well make sure he didn't fail.

Jethro hadn't even been aware that he had started moving, and only became aware of leaving Abby's lab when he realized he was standing in the middle of Autopsy. The room was dark, only a small glow surrounded the empty examining tables.

He wiped a hand over his face. He had lost it. Completely. There was no sanity left in his entire body. He attacked the Director of the FBI, he got angry at _Abby_ for being scared about her friend. He was second guessing everything he was doing. He was insecure. He had never felt like this before. So much was riding on his every decision, and he didn't know if he would succeed this time. DiNozzo always had complete confidence in him, but he kept feeling like he was going to let the man down this time.

He smacked his hand against one of the tables, whirled around and screamed at the empty room.

"Why did you tell me? I could've stopped this if you had just told me! Why the hell didn't you trust me?" That was the part that hurt the most; knowing that Tony didn't trust him. After everything they'd been through together, and he still didn't trust him.

He clenched his knuckles tight against his lips as his mind replayed the night they spent together. The tattoo, and how it had looked so sexy. It should have been on DiNozzo's ass, a clichéd way to 'mark the spot' or some other bullshit. Watching the younger man prepare himself, or when he said 'I'm good, Boss.' Just like that, completely blunt. Jethro thought it was hot. He thought DiNozzo wanted to be fucked, fucked just like a whore. God, how could he be so stupid?

Everything from that night he had thought was exciting and sexy, but now he realized it was cruel and disgusting. When he pushed into the younger man for the first time, he thought DiNozzo cried out in pleasure, but now looking back on it, he realized he had been wrong. That noise he kept making wasn't ecstasy, it was pain. But he didn't care. He didn't want a romantic evening, hell he didn't even want a one-night stand. He wanted a whore, and his agent had given it to him.

"Why'd you let me do that?" He asked quietly, his voice shaking. He pulled his head up and started screaming again. "Why'd you let me use you like that? Are you really that weak? I thought you were a fighter, not some damn pussy!" Jethro slammed his fist against the table again. He slumped against the metal, his legs unable to keep him up any longer. "Why didn't you stop me?" He swallowed the lump in his throat.

He took a deep breath, pushed away from the table and turned to face the rest of the room, only to stop suddenly, his breath hitching. Standing in a dark corner was Ducky.

"How long have you been standing there?" Jethro finally asked when the shock wore off.

"Long enough." The older man sounded like he was barely containing his anger. His voice was quiet, but that quietness was full of an emotion Jethro wasn't used to hearing from his friend. "You slept with Tony?"

Damn, Jethro should have checked his surroundings better. That was careless. If he had done that in the field, he'd be dead right now.

"You slept with Tony?" Ducky repeated, this time much louder.

Jethro didn't want to deal with this. He needed to clear his head and talking with the doctor wouldn't do that. Not this time. Without a word, he turned around and started walking for the door.

Ducky called after him, "I'm not done, Gibbs." That was what got the agent to stop. Ducky rarely called him by his last name.

When he turned back around, Ducky was seething. Jethro could practically see the smoke blowing out of the medical examiner's ears. "I wasn't aware that you had the tendency to blame a victim."

Jethro shook his head and tried to leave again. "DiNozzo's not a victim."

Ducky followed him. "You heard everything that boy endured since he was four years old and you have the nerve to call him weak after you used him for your own personal enjoyment?"

Jethro had never seen his friend so angry before. The man had gotten irritated before, but he rarely exploded like this, especially not at Jethro. It made his own anger rise, as well as developed his paranoia.

He moved forward till he was inches from his friend, glaring at him as if he were a criminal. "So when did you get DiNozzo into bed, Doctor?"

His cheek stung as Ducky slapped him, hard, across the face.

He stood there in stunned silence. Ducky had never struck him before.

But the older gent wasn't locked in shock. His anger was palpable. "Just because you can only care for Anthony if you abuse him, do not dare to think all of us feel the same way."

Jethro slowly shook his head, fury boiling inside of him. Who the hell did Ducky think he was? He never abused DiNozzo and he wouldn't have slept with him at all if the damn kid had actually told him the truth. This was DiNozzo's fault, he was the one who let people fuck him, the one who let people use him. He's the one who refused to tell the people around him who cared about his childhood.

"I did not abuse—"

Before he could get the sentence out, Ducky cut him off. "As far as I'm concerned, you are no better than the people who have him." That felt like a worse slap to the face than the actual one. And he wasn't going to listen to anymore.

He turned towards the door again. This time he wasn't stopping, no matter what Ducky said. He wouldn't. But when Ducky opened his mouth again, Jethro couldn't help but stumble over his feet.

"If you lay a single finger on him in that compound, I will personally ensure that you are arrested for rape."

He was stunned, to say the least. He wasn't the bad guy here, he wasn't the one who kidnapped DiNozzo, he didn't teach him how to pleasure every sexual partner he'd ever have since he was four, and he certainly didn't burn his damn prostate. So why was Ducky acting like he was?

The older man approached him. Even though he had several inches on the medical examiner, Jethro still felt like Ducky was towering over him.

"Every time we talk here, you always walk out on me. Allow me to return the favor." With one final glare, far worse than Jethro could ever muster. Ducky took his leave, pushing past the agent on his way out the door.

Jethro's anger came back full force. He needed to keep his head for this op, and Ducky just shattered that chance.

"Old, self-righteous prick," he muttered under his breath before he walked out of Autopsy for good. He chose to take the stairs back to Abby's lab. He didn't want to risk running into the older man at the elevator.

Abby and Fornell were still there, and judging by the look they gave him, they had been talking about him when he walked in. It didn't help his anger.

"Where have you been?" Abby asked when she got over her shock. It was almost like she expected him to know exactly what they said and yell at them for it. He had a hunch, but he wasn't entirely sure. Normally he could tell exactly what people were talking about when he walked in on them, but not this time. He figured they were talking about him losing it on this case, but that could have easily just been his paranoia acting up again. Maybe he was just seeing enemies where there weren't any.

"Had to talk to Ducky. Are the glasses all set?"

Abby nodded, he could still see fear in her eyes. A part of him hated that he made her feel like that, but another, much stronger part just didn't care anymore.

She put the lenses on his face, this time the frame fit perfectly.

"It's almost time to leave, Gibbs," Fornell said, worry pouring off of every word. "Are you sure you want to do this?"

Jethro shrugged. "Too late to change my mind now." Not that he would turn back, even if he could. This wasn't just about him. His agent needed him, and that was more important than his life.

Fornell nodded and the two of them took their leave. Before he left, Jethro saw a look on Abby's face that he hated to see. A fear that he had never seen before. He could tell that she didn't want to be left alone, but he couldn't sit here and babysit her. There were more important things to deal with than his forensic scientist's fear.

They went back upstairs to pick up the other agents. Kate was dressed in a casual t-shirt and jeans, while the two agents who were taking him home, Grant and Packer, were dressed like Secret Service Agents in their black suits and dark sunglasses. They screamed 'feds' with their very posture. It was good. Better than good, they were looking the part. For a moment, Jethro entertained the notion of hope. He might actually survive this.

"The car's ready, Director," Packer said, his shoulders tight and rigid with professionalism.

Kate stepped forward with her palm outstretched under his nose. She was holding two earwigs.

"McGee will be watching us from MTAC. If anything happens, say the duress word and Fornell and I will be there in less than five minutes. McGee can call our reinforcements as well."

Jethro stared down at the wigs in her hand. "I only need one."

She gave him an aggravated look that only a woman could master. "The other one's for Tony. That way, he's not completely alone until the auction. We'll keep a few agents camped nearby, that way if he has anything to tell us, somebody will be there to listen."

He knew that she wasn't happy with his plan. She didn't want to subject him to more than was absolutely necessary, and six days seemed too long to leave him there. Jethro didn't like it either, but they had to do it this way. It wasn't just about DiNozzo anymore, it was about all of them. Every prisoner, every slave, every child that was being destroyed because of this ring. And if they could get everybody involved, they'd have a better chance to stop it completely. If all they were worried about was getting DiNozzo back, then they were leaving who knows how many children behind. And what was to stop Amalea from kidnapping him again? She already proved she had balls when she took a federal agent from his home. What else could she be willing to do?

"Director," said Packer, pulling Jethro out of his thoughts. It was a good thing, too. His panic had been about to kick in. "It's time we take you home."

Jethro nodded. He headed for the elevator, with Packer and Grant a few feet behind him. Kate and Fornell decided to take the stairs to put more distance between them and Jethro.

When he and the others made it to the parking garage, his first instinct was to head for his own car. It took him a couple of seconds to remember that the Director had his own Government issue sedan that would take him where he needed to go.

Subtly, he began to move the agents in the right direction before they noticed his mistake. If they did, neither one commented. They were either too engrossed in their roles, or they were too smart to say anything. Either way, they kept quiet and Jethro was grateful for it.

Packer rushed over and quickly opened the back door for him. Jethro figured he could get used to that kind of treatment.

It took a good thirty minutes to get to the Director's house from the Navy Yard. Jethro found himself only a few houses away from Axel. Why hadn't Morrow told him about that?

"Director," Packer said again. Jethro shook his head to clear it. "I think we should get you inside."

Jethro fixed his glasses and nodded. Packer and Grant did a quick sweep around the house before they left. That was the deal, they couldn't stick around. He needed Amalea to think that he was safe to take and he couldn't do that with two agents hanging off his sides.

He checked out the window to see Kate and Fornell down the street, bathed in darkness. From his angle, the car looked empty. That was good, if he could see them, the flunkies from the ring could definitely see them.

He moved away from the window and slowly began to check out the house. It wasn't as grand as Axel's, but it was definitely homier. The furniture was masculine, but with a feminine touch to it. The colors were neutral; warm, dark greys with touches of browns and reds, and deep blues, but the occasional throw pillow and afghans in bright vibrant colors were a harsh contrast, yet remarkably tasteful. Mrs. Morrow had good taste.

The kitchen was huge, with granite countertops and stainless steel appliances. There was a small breakfast nook in the corner of the room.

As Jethro checked every room, he noted how worn the furniture all was. It was all expensive, that was for damn sure, but it was still used. When he went barging into Axel's house, he wondered if anybody had ever sat down in the place. But Morrow's property wasn't just a house, it was a home.

And Jethro was here defiling it.

He didn't know if Amalea's men would stick around to chat, or if they did, for how long. But the very thought of letting these people inside for even a moment sickened him.

By the time he was finished going through the house and getting himself acquainted with the place, it was well past midnight. He couldn't believe another day had passed. Another day and he still felt like he was nowhere close to finding DiNozzo. It was ridiculous. By this time tomorrow, he'd be inside the ring's main office, behind enemy lines. But even still it was all moving too slowly for him.

He thought back to Madeline, Fanelli, and even Angela Barry. So many lives were ruined because of these people. Their justice, their closure, was in his hands. And he wasn't sure if he could do it.

"Head's up, Gibbs," Kate whispered in his ear. "Black SUV approaching the house."

For a moment, his heart stopped. This was it. This was the moment he'd been waiting for for the last five days. He hadn't expected them to get here so soon. When he said 'tomorrow,' he kind of assumed it would happen tomorrow night after work. Amalea was trying to throw him through another loop.

Damn, he hated that fucking woman.

A few minutes later, there was a knock at the door. He took one final calming breath before he went to answer it.

Showtime.

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><p><strong>Good news! Guess who's in the next chapter! That's right! And chapter 22 has some hot and heavy action. This is also a pretty long chapter. Bonus points? Forgiveness? Maybe? Hopefully?<strong>

**Bob**


	21. 21

**Ok, so this was so not supposed to happen, BUT, my internet decided to die on me for like a day and a half, and I had a hard enough time trying to get my homework done (it's online homework), and then all of my other homework popped up and I wanted to get that done, and then I kept trying to write, and sadly, I did not make my deadline. Stupid school. But, chapter 22 is currently with my beta getting all polished and beautiful and chapter 23 is ready and waiting. And I have a surprise for you! Guess who makes an appearance in this chapter! That's right! **

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><p><strong>21<strong>

Kate took a deep breath and held it a moment as she peered through her binoculars. "They've been in there a long time." It must have been at least ten minutes since they saw the SUV drive down the street. As soon as she saw it, she knew it belonged to the ring. She couldn't explain how, at first glance it was just a generic black car, but she had a feeling in her gut that these were her guys.

When she saw them go into the house, she assumed it would be quick. A simple "It's time to go," before ushering Gibbs outside into the waiting vehicle. But then they stepped inside—something that took a few minutes on its own. Gibbs did not want these people in Morrow's home, Kate could tell. Now all they could do was wait. And waiting just made her worry more. She heard everything that was being said through the microphone Gibbs wore on his shirt sleeve, but the longer they waited, the more frantic her heartbeat became.

She took her eyes away from the house and stared at Fornell. He looked just as worried as she felt.

"Gibbs will be fine," was all he said, despite Kate not opening her mouth.

She gave him a look. "Are you trying to convince me or yourself?"

Fornell didn't say anything at first. He grabbed the field glasses from her and watched the house for a few minutes. "Have you noticed anything off about Gibbs?"

"What do you mean? Off how?"

He shrugged. "Anything weird? Do you think he's losing it?"

She shrugged. "He's been an even worse bastard than usual since we found out Tony was taken. He started laughing hysterically at a crime scene. But then, right afterwards, it was like he forgot what was so funny and turned to us, back to normal. Why? What did he do with you?"

Fornell put the binoculars down and sighed heavily. "I tried to talk to him about the op in Abby's lab, and he just walked out. I don't even think he heard me. I've never seen him act like this."

Kate's heart started racing again. "You think he's going to blow this mission." It wasn't a question, and that's what really scared her.

Fornell looked her square in the eye when he asked, "Do you think he can handle it?'

Kate didn't know how to answer that. She just sat there with her mouth hanging open like a fish. She knew he wasn't ok, he was never ok when something happened to Tony. Not when he was kidnapped by that Marine killing waitress, or when he was chained to a serial killer. He never talked about it, refused to admit it, but she always knew. Tony meant more to Gibbs than she could ever hope to.

Could he handle seeing where Tony was taken? Could he handle knowing exactly what he was going through? Could he handle it if Tony was completely broken, or had given up any chance of hope? The very thought of it made her sick, so was Gibbs going to deal with seeing it?

She was saved from having to answer when Fornell said, "They're on the move."

Kate sat up and put her seatbelt on. She said a silent prayer as her companion started the car.

_Please let him be ok. Please, let him be alive._

_**Smilest, with autumn's russet in thy hair,  
>And summer's fruits upon thy breast embossed<strong>_

Jethro tried to pay attention to every turn they made and how long each stretch of the trip took, but after a while he lost track. They had been going straight for so long and he had lost count of how many turns they had already made. Then he became completely disorientated, losing which direction they were headed.

As soon as Amalea's thugs put him in the car, they had put a bag over his head. He couldn't see anything and all he could hear was the purr of the engine. No music, no other traffic, maybe the occasional bump from a pot hole, but no sounds that could help him figure out where the hell he was. All of it annoyed him, why did these people have to be so damn paranoid? They could have been caught already if they were a little less careful.

He really hated this bitch.

After what felt like a lifetime had passed, they turned down a dirt road. He could tell by the rocks flying up and hitting the car and the crunch of gravel underneath the tires. He figured they must be close.

Sure enough, after maybe ten minutes, they came to a stop and the engine was shut off. The men gently pulled him out of the vehicle and removed the bag from his head.

The building looked evil. It was bright and open, true, but the dark bricks gave a completely different feel. It was almost like a wave of evil spread through his limbs at the mere sight of this place. He could almost hear the screams of the children who had come through here. Jethro swallowed back the bile that rose in his throat.

It was a mansion, eight or nine stories with beautiful architecture that reminded him of a medieval castle. But every window had bars across them and thick heavy drapes covered up the majority of them. The base of the building was lined with thorn bushes. All he thought they were missing was a mote around the damn place.

Much of the sky was still dark as the sun awoke to see a new day. When he checked his watch, he was surprised to see it wasn't even six in the morning. They had driven all night. He assumed they avoided highways and tolls, considering he had a bag on his head the entire trip, so that put them most likely in Delaware. Apparently, Angela Barry wasn't completely useless with her information.

"I hope you enjoyed the trip, Director," came a voice that he recognized immediately.

He didn't see her in the sunlight at first, but when he finally turned to her, his breath hitched. This was Amalea. And she was beautiful.

Her skin was a dark complexion, though from too much sun or genetics, he couldn't be sure. Her hair was cut in a clean bob and her clothes looked like they cost more than his entire wardrobe. He had a hard time believing that this woman was once a slave herself.

Jethro shrugged. "It was a bit long. Didn't really like having the bag over my head."

She smirked. It was a practiced one, meant to knock her opponent off his feet with the sex appeal that oozed off of it. "I apologize for that. It's for protection, you see."

Oh, he understood. If he was ever caught, he wouldn't be able to lead anyone back here.

In his ear, he heard Kate reassure him that his GPS tracker was still functioning. They were only a few miles away and they knew exactly where the mansion was.

"Shall we go inside, Director?' Amalea held out her hand for him to take.

He looked down at it for a second before he turned his eyes back to her. "I'll need to call my people to let them know I won't be there. I wouldn't want them to worry, you understand."

She nodded. "Perfectly." Yeah, if there was anything Amalea understood, it was worry. It never led to good things. She turned her head over his shoulder for a moment before she turned back again. "It's all taken care of. My men sent an e-mail to the office. You have laryngitis." Her smirk widened, showing off a row of perfect teeth. He doubted they were genetic; nobody's teeth were that perfect naturally. "We have you for as long as we need."

He couldn't deny that he didn't like the sound of that. If he—or rather _Morrow_—was supposed to have laryngitis, then the agency wouldn't be surprised to not hear from him and they'd just assign a Junior Director to take over in his absence. It would take days before anybody even realized he was missing.

Jethro reminded himself that he wasn't alone. Kate and Fornell were waiting just a few miles away. Amalea couldn't touch him without the full force of the FBI and NCIS on her ass within minutes. It may not help him, but it would definitely save the kids. And DiNozzo.

He couldn't stall anymore. If he did, Amalea would definitely get suspicious. As much as it pained him, he finally took her offered hand and gave it a firm shake.

"It's nice to finally meet you, Director."

"Tom," he corrected. He wanted this woman to think he was a friend.

She pulled him forward and linked their arms together, leading them towards the mansion. "Well, Tom, I'm sure you have plenty of questions for me before we begin our tour."

"Amalea's a unique name, how'd your parents come up with that?"

"What the hell kind of question is that?" Fornell squawked in his ear. It took everything in him not to flinch with the sound.

But it got a good result. It was slight, very slight, but she tensed. As quickly as it happened, it disappeared and she was back to her usual self.

"It's a form of Amelia. I think it's Greek or something. I'm not quite sure." She gave him another disarming smile. "Anything about our little operation?"

It sounded stupid, but he wanted to throw her off her game. Especially knowing that she was once a slave here, he wanted to push her buttons. Jethro needed to know how she'd react. He learned one thing. No matter how destroyed she became after being here for so long, it still burned her that her parents gave her up.

"How secure is this place?" They passed through the front doors into an elaborate foyer with marble tiles and pillars embedded with gold.

"Very. We have many security guards and multiple security functions set up around the perimeter."

Jethro couldn't help but notice how good she was. She was answering his questions easily without giving anything away. She only gave him the basic information, no details that could help with the raid. She still didn't trust him.

"Worried about the wrong people getting in?"

She chuckled. "More worried about people getting out." She stopped in front of a large, beautifully crafted spiral staircase. She finally let go of his arm to face him head on. "I'm not going to lie, Tom. There have been times when the children have run away in the past." She shrugged, as if she was talking about the weather. "You know how teenagers are. Some are just incorrigible. Think they can survive on their own."

He pretended to tense. "Is that a problem? You're not worried about them… doing something rash, are you?" Like going to the media, or authorities.

Amalea actually laughed. "Don't worry, Tom. That's my job." She patted his arm reassuringly. "Besides, we've taken necessary steps to ensure that nobody does anything that can hurt us. You have my word on that." She grabbed his arm again.

This time he pulled away. "I'm sure. Amalea, I'm the Director of a federal agency, I do know what kind of operation you're running. You don't need to sugarcoat things for me. In fact, I'd prefer it if you didn't." He stared her straight in the eye with the most warming and kind look he could muster for this woman.

"Careful Gibbs," Fornell said into his earwig. "You don't wanna tip this broad off."

But Amalea just eyed him curiously for a moment. "Has anyone ever said you are very blunt, Tom?"

He actually smirked. "Many times."

The two of them shared a chuckle as Amalea again grabbed him and led him up the stairs. "It's an admirable trait. Well, we have a man on staff, a fixer, if you will. He ensures that the general public never catches wind of our little operation."

Jethro nodded. "A hit man."

"If the occasion calls for it. We also have a retrieval team to locate runaways and bring them back. But to be honest, in many situations, we don't bother. Our recruits are very young, and unfortunately, they don't all turn into swans."

He nodded. They only wanted pretty people. Made sense, considering they took DiNozzo when he was already in his early thirties.

He took a break from questions to look around the place. Their footsteps echoed off the hard floors. The wood work was a dark cherry, a strong contrast with the white of the marble. The light fixtures were old fashioned, almost like gas lights on the walls. They gave off a faint glow, but not enough to completely illuminate the hallway. It was all beautiful, and expensive. But the beauty just added to the intense disgust he was feeling. Something so beautiful shouldn't be used for something so cruel.

Amalea continued with the tour, showing him just about everything a guest would want to see in this place. He made sure to catch every security camera or guard with his glasses camera for the others. They would need all of this when they came back in five days. After about an hour, they finally started to get to the more interesting parts of the compound.

"And here is our school. Most of our clients don't just want bodies, they can get that anywhere after all. No, our Dependents are all well educated in more than just the art of love."

The _school_ was really nothing more than a few levels in the east wing. The rooms were transformed into miniature classrooms. In one room they were teaching history, another Literature, and a third language. In every one of those rooms were kids, small children as young as four with terrified eyes, all silently pleading with him to help them. It broke his heart. More than once, under the guise of fixing his frames, he wiped a tear from his eyes. He hated that he couldn't help them. That he couldn't rescue them right now. He was forced to turn his back on all of them.

"And this is our sexual education room," said Amalea, pulling him out of his pain and moving him in front of another room. This one was much larger and filled with teenagers. Some were thirteen, others looked like they were almost legal. They were all paired off with each other and practicing their 'techniques' on each other. "We teach our students all the skills we can so as to serve our clients to the best of our abilities; the best ways to perform oral sex; every pressure point on the body that elicits a sexual response; how to find your personal spot. We don't leave anything up to chance."

Once again, Jethro saw the kids plead with him, but only the younger ones. The older students had been here long enough to know that he wasn't here to help them. They had lost hope.

He couldn't have been more grateful when Amalea finally pulled him away from the east wing. In his ear, he could hear Kate choking up a few silent sobs.

"Do you ever put any of the younger students up for auction?" Petty Officer Whitmore had said it wasn't done, but he needed to make sure.

"Generally, no. We typically don't like to sell our Dependents until they are eighteen. They usually aren't ready for that kind of relationship just yet." Amalea stopped them again. "Director, while we personally have no opinions on your personal preferences, if you want a child that you can have your way with, then I would prefer not to have your business. That kind of service can be found anywhere. We offer much more than that, including a guarantee that no matter how tired, or how old you get, our Dependents will always be able to service you. We are not cheap. That is why we don't sell services that will only last for a few short years. We offer a lifetime of enjoyment and ecstasy."

Damn the woman knew how to make a speech. Jethro shook his head. "I'm not interested in children. I was just curious about how you operate."

She scrutinized him again. Eventually, she must have realized he was telling the truth—which he was, she just didn't know all of the details—she nodded and continued on with the tour.

"Well, Tom. I believe that concludes our tour," she finally said after another three hours. It wasn't even noon yet. "But as I said over the phone, this tour also comes with a free trial. So, if you will follow me, I'll get you set up in one of our suites."

His heart started racing. This was it. He was finally going to see DiNozzo again. In his ear, he heard a collective gasp from his back-up, indicating they were just as nervous about this as he was.

But then a thought came to him. Amalea knew they worked together, what were the chances she would bring DiNozzo to him? If she did, what kind of reaction was she expecting to get out of him? DiNozzo didn't know about the plan, how was he supposed to be able to play along?

The room that Amalea brought him to was definitely not a suite. It was just a room with an adjoining bathroom. The walls were paneled in the same cherry wood as the rest of the compound. The bed was small, only a twin size raised off the ground, a cherry nightstand stood next it. The floor wasn't carpeted, but covered in a floral area rug. Jethro was actually surprised to see such a bland room here.

He turned to Amalea and quirked an eyebrow in question.

Her smirk came back. "You're here for sex, not to admire my interior decorating."

That was a good point, as much as he hated to admit it. The people who came into this room had more important things to focus on than wallpaper and paintings. The bareness of the room ensured that people focused solely on the slave that was brought before them. It was a business tactic.

He sat down on the bed and was surprised at how plush it felt. It didn't look like it would be so soft.

"Now I need to ask, do you prefer men or women?"

He heard Kate shout, "Men!" in his ear.

He would have rolled his eyes if Amalea wasn't staring directly at him.

"Men."

Amalea nodded. "Any preference?'

"I want a man, not a boy."

"That's it?" Kate asked indignantly. "That's the best you can come up with? How are you supposed to get Tony with _that_?"

But Amalea nodded with a bright smile on her face. "I know exactly what you mean. If you'll excuse me, this will only take a few minutes." She left.

Jethro finally let out the breath he didn't even know he was holding. He dropped his head in his hands and mumbled under his breath, "I do know what I'm doing, Kate." At least he hoped he did.

Only five minutes passed before the door opened and Amalea returned. With her were four men. Jethro clamped his mouth shut to stop the gasp threatening to escape. One of the men was DiNozzo.

He could see the redness on the younger man's chest, indicating he was recently waxed. There were bags under his eyes, probably because he most likely hadn't slept since he got here. But otherwise, he was flawless. And so, so beautiful. But his eyes held a different story. There was so much pain, despair and hate hidden in those irises. But there was also a shimmer of hope.

All four of the men before him were beautiful, even if his eyes kept going back to the man on the farthest right. He finally noticed that they were naked except for a leather loincloth. Even their feet were bare.

Jethro turned to Amalea. "Does free trial mean orgy?"

She chuckled. "It's your choice. Pick any one you want." She made sure to emphasize _one_.

"Make it look good, Gibbs," Kate whispered. "You can't just pick Tony."

He already knew that. Why did she insist on second guessing him? She had only been an agent for less than two years. She was good, but he had been doing this for a while.

Jethro stood up and approached the men. He decided to start with the man farthest from DiNozzo. He didn't want to seem too eager.

The man was stunning with sandy blonde hair and blue eyes. His lips were full and smooth as the rest of his skin.

Jethro told the man to smile. When he did, he saw two rows of perfectly neat, bright white teeth. Too perfect. Definitely caps. He turned back to Amalea. "How old?"

"Twenty-nine. He's the youngest one here."

Jethro scoffed. "I can tell." He was beautiful, in a pretty-boy way. He was a baby face. "I said I wanted a man, that didn't mean a man who looked like he's twelve."

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the man's eyes lower in shame. It broke his heart. He was ashamed because some dirty old man didn't want to get into his pants.

He moved on to the next man. "This one is thirty-five," Amalea threw in before he could ask. He certainly aged well. There were a few lines around his mouth and eyes. His body was taut from years of body building.

He gave a quick shake of his head before moving onto the third man. His heart was racing. He barely even noticed this man because he was so focused on the next one. DiNozzo kept his eyes trained ahead of him, he wouldn't look at him, but he was tense. He was waiting for Jethro to move onto him.

Finally, he moved away from the third man and stood in front of his agent. For the first time since he showed up, DiNozzo looked him square in the eye.

Jethro smirked. "I'll take this one."

Amalea smiled. "Excellent choice."

He nodded in agreement. "Nice to see you again, Agent DiNozzo."

DiNozzo visibly swallowed a lump in his throat. "Director."

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><p><strong>Next chapter, there will be smut. Fair warning ahead of time. But hey! Tony! He's back! And alive! Anyone excited? <strong>

**Bob**


	22. 22

**This was seriously an off week. I don't know why, but I could barely keep my head on straight all week. And then, every time I tried to post, something came up, and I couldn't find time. Off week, not bad, just funky. I'm hoping this week will be better, but I'm not holding my breath. Life won't straighten up until school is over. And that won't be for a while. Grr. **

**Ok, warning time, there is smut in this chapter, but oddly enough, it isn't too dirty, I got an idea, so I ran with it. Oh, and good news! I just bought a new iPhone (No, I am not being paid by Apple to turn this into a commercial, while the phone is awesome, there is a purpose). See, my old phone had a notes thing to it, but the notes had a very limited amount of space, so I never used it. I would just use my notebook. Problem was always that if I used my notebook, I hated the transferring of files from written to print, so I always tend to put that off, especially until I know I have time to do it. But now I don't have to do that! I can write on my phone! And then all I have to do is email it to myself, which means, faster writing time! Yey! Yes, I just realized how lazy I sound, and I apologize. But it has already started to come in handy. Ok, I'm having fun, this is my first smart phone, I wasn't sure I wanted to get one, and then I did, and I'm actually really happy that I did. I'm pathetic.**

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><p><strong>22<strong>

Kate finally let out a sigh of relief as a tear leaked out of her eye. Tony was there. He was so close, and yet still so far away. He looked terrible, but he was alive, and soon they were going to be bringing him home.

She wiped her eyes to focus more on the monitor. She watched as Gibbs went down the line, checking over every man before finally moving onto Tony and making his decision.

"You ok, Agent Todd?" Asked Fornell.

"Yeah," she nodded quickly, "Yes, I'm fine."

"Yeah, it bothers me too." Kate jerked her gaze towards her companion. It didn't make any sense, Fornell barely knew Tony. Hell, the first time they met, Fornell tossed him onto a highway trapped in a body bag. It could have killed him. Why would he even care about Tony?

The FBI agent sighed. "I knew about the ring. I knew it existed, I knew about what they were doing, but I didn't do anything to stop it."

"You were following orders."

Fornell chuckled bitterly. "So were the Nazis." He finally turned to her. "Following orders is not an reason. It's an excuse. And I hate excuses."

Kate leaned back in her seat as the weight of what she just heard settled in. She wasn't a fan of Fornell, and quite honestly, there were times when she outright hated him. But she didn't know about the ring, or what Tony went through, but Fornell did. The knowledge nearly killed her, she couldn't imagine what Fornell was going through.

Out of the corner of her eye, Kate noticed something. When she turned to look, dread settled in the pit of her stomach.

"Oh crap."

There was a car, it had seen them. And now it was leaving.

"Fornell!" She screamed, pointing at the vehicle.

The FBI agent cursed under his breath as he quickly started the car and started chasing after it. The driver must have spotted them coming, because he sped up. "Speed it up!" Kate screamed when they started to lose him.

"Thank you, Agent Todd. I do know what I'm doing."

When Kate leaned over to check the speedometer, she saw they were going about ninety miles an hour and going faster with each passing second. And the other car was still flying away.

A rock flew up and cracked the windshield in front of her face. It left a spider-web crack much too large for such a small stone. The other car hit a log on the side of the road, causing it to swerve. It slowed down for a while, giving them the chance to catch up. She grabbed onto the side bar and dashboard as Fornell slammed the gas down as far as it would go and not only caught up to the other car, but passed it. Kate clamped her eyes shut when he slammed on the brakes. This was going to be a collision, and a bad one.

But the other car didn't hit them. It stopped, barely, but it stopped.

Kate ripped her eyes open and pulled her gun out of the center console. The driver in the other car put a cell phone to his ear.

"He's making a call."

"Probably to Amalea." The two of them threw their doors open and stood on either side of the car, pointing their side arms at the occupant. "Drop the phone!" Fornell screamed.

Kate ran around the car for a better angle. When she saw the man start to pull something off the passenger seat, she was about to pull the trigger. If Fornell hadn't beaten her to it.

The bullet struck the windshield and cracked the glass right at the driver's head. He was lucky it didn't go through. The son of a bitch had bulletproof glass.

Kate finally got into position to rip open his car door. Sure enough, in one hand, he held a cell phone, in the other, a pistol.

"Drop 'em." At this moment, both objects were dangerous weapons.

"You're making a big mistake." He spoke with an English accent. His head was clean shaven, his nose was a bit on the larger side and he had a scruffy beard. But he was still attractive.

"Not as big as the one you just made. Now drop the phone and the gun."

With an arrogant smirk, he tossed the gun away, but held the phone for an extra minute, his finger hovering over the call button. Kate lowered her weapon until it was pointing at his lap. That got him to drop it.

Fornell popped up out of nowhere and yanked the man out of the car. Kate hadn't even realized he had moved.

"I'm CIA," the man said, still with that grin.

"CIA who happened to be hanging outside the compound for a sex slavery ring?" Kate scoffed.

"Check my credentials."

"I got a better idea," Fornell ground out before he roughly grabbed the man and flipped him around. It was at this that the man began to struggle. Before, other than being cocky, he was complacent. But now he had a problem with them turning him around? Kate didn't need to see it, she knew it would be there.

And sure enough, when Fornell lowered the man's collar, there it was. That damn tattoo that she hated so much. This one also had an 'S' thing under it. He was owned.

And he was CIA.

"You're the one who killed Petty Officer Whitmore."

_**And thy soft skin like fabled sea-caves mossed**_

Amalea and Francis strode into her office and immediately she went behind her desk to check the camera feed into Director Morrow's room.

"Have you heard back from Kort yet?" She asked.

Francis shook his head. "Not yet. But Morrow chose DiNozzo, that means this is a set-up."

"It means they know each other!" They hadn't started having sex yet. That was the biggest clue. The Director, or an agent, wouldn't have sex with Tony if he was undercover. He wouldn't. "Which we already knew, that doesn't help us."

"Just let me kill him!"

Amalea jumped up and screamed, "And bring all of NCIS to our doors? This operation works because we don't go around killing our clients! Especially big ones like Morrow."

"You really think some piss poor agency like NCIS can touch us? What are they gonna do? The FBI won't even touch us."

"And that will all change if we kill the director of fucking NCIS and you damn well know it! You really think any of our clients would want to be involved with that mess? If word gets out—"

"Word won't get out," Francis cut her off. "I know what I'm doing. That is why you hired me for this job isn't it? Because I could do what you couldn't?"

Amalea took a deep breath in through her nose. She was getting sick of this prick second guessing her every move. That was always a problem. She hired him because he was a sadistic bastard, but he never appreciated her for what she could do. She was the one in charge, but he complained about every decision that she made. Especially now, with the Tony situation. He knew what Tony meant to this ring, what he was capable of. Tony was going to be the biggest bid they ever had in the history of the auction, but Francis just wouldn't shut up about what a 'problem' he was.

Francis had initially been brought on by Daddy, but she had given him his current job as head of security. But he could never get over the fact that she used to be a Dependent, and because of that he looked down on her. She hired him because he wasn't afraid to get his hands dirty, and normally she was able to put up with his piss poor attitude. But not anymore.

"Mr. Tatum, your services are no longer required." She discreetly opened her desk drawer.

He chuckled in disbelief. "Are you really trying to dismiss me right now?"

"No, Mr. Tatum, I'm firing you."

The shot rang out through the office. At first, Francis stood there in shock. Blood oozed out between his lips as more leaked onto his sweater. In another moment, he crumpled to the floor, dead.

Amalea stood there with her revolver raised, smoke billowing out of the front. This was a job for life. Nobody walked away from the ring alive.

"Nobody," she mumbled out between shaky breaths. She had never killed anyone before. She always left that up to Francis. "Nobody fucks with me."

Amalea finally dropped the gun and held her hand until it stopped shaking. Then she slowly fell into her seat and clamped her eyes shut. After taking a steadying breath, she hit the button for the intercom to let her secretary know that somebody needed to come and collect the man on her floor. He didn't question her.

When that was done, and the body was removed, she turned back to the monitor. Tony and Morrow had finally made it to the bed and Tony went about doing what he did best.

For the first time in a long time, she smiled a real, genuine smile. "That's my boy."

_**And in thy warmest flesh's secret fold  
>The form of rosy shells the seas have rolled<strong>_

Jethro wanted to reach out and take the younger man in his arms and never let go. He was ready to cry in relief that DiNozzo was still alive. But he had to restrain himself. His gut told him that even if they were by themselves in this room, they still weren't alone.

A tear rested in the corner of DiNozzo's eye. He licked his lips and slowly stepped closer until he was only an inch or two away from the older man. Jethro sucked in air and held it. He wanted to reach out and touch him, make himself believe that this was real, that DiNozzo was really standing in front of him.

And then he spoke. "They keep cameras in the room to make sure they don't get played. This has to look real."

No. Jethro started to shake his head but it was too late. DiNozzo closed the distance between them and attacked Jethro's mouth with his own.

So many emotions filled him that he couldn't begin to describe what they were. All he knew was that he didn't want to let go. Not ever.

DiNozzo pushed his tongue into his boss' mouth and massaged his tongue with his own. Jethro felt his knees begin to weaken. He grabbed onto DiNozzo's shoulders and pulled him even closer.

He hadn't even been aware that they were moving until his knees hit the edge of the bed and he was falling over. He clung onto DiNozzo so tight, he fell with him. The younger man wasn't light, not by a long shot. There was definitely some muscle hidden beneath his skin, but he wasn't bulky. No, he was perfect.

His hands started to roam over smooth skin, across the valley of his spine, through the smooth silk of his hair before coming to rest on the back of DiNozzo's neck. He felt the different texture of the ink from the tattoo. That was when he finally came back to reality.

Almost as if it shocked him, he pushed DiNozzo off of his mouth as his heart nearly leapt out of his chest. What was he doing? He was here to save DiNozzo not screw him. What was wrong with him?

"Tony," he let out through a heavy breath. It didn't even constitute a whisper.

DiNozzo cut him off. "If we don't do this, they're gonna know you're not who you say you are, and then we're both dead."

He shook his head again. "I can't… we can't."

"I know what I'm doing, Boss. Trust me." He looked straight into Jethro's eyes. The older man could see all of the strength, all of the determination that had laid dormant only a few short minutes ago. DiNozzo did know what he was doing, but did Jethro? Did he have any idea what he was getting himself into right now? Or even worse, would he be able to control himself?

Before he could say another word, Tony grabbed his glasses off his face and laid them on the night stand by the bed. He pointed the lenses away from them.

Jethro smiled. DiNozzo had been forced to wear those glasses a few times, he knew what they were. And he knew people would be watching. It was nice not having an audience to his utter shame right now.

Then DiNozzo was kissing him again. It was gentle, sweet. Completely different to their drunken sessions a week ago. It was hard to believe that they had sex such a short time ago, it felt like much longer.

He felt his zipper being pulled and he came down from his high once more. As much as he wanted this to happen, it couldn't. Not here, and not like this. It was wrong, and DiNozzo deserved so much better than this.

"Don't," he tried to argue once more.

But damn it, if DiNozzo wasn't the most stubborn man he'd ever met. "Boss, I've been here for five days and passed around like a hot potato. You really think I just let them all screw me?"

His earlier tantrum came back to him with a force so strong he almost threw up. DiNozzo buried his head in the crook of his neck and breathed deeply, his hand exploring Jethro's body.

"I didn't think you'd find me." Jethro noted the shake in his voice and the wetness forming on his bare skin.

He swallowed a lump in his throat before he answered, "I'll always find you, Tony."

He felt the smile against his skin as Tony grew more daring with his movements. He reached up and gently massaged his nipples between his thumb and forefinger. It was such a light touch, it shouldn't have affected him the way it did. But his back arched and his erection finally grew to full. He let out a quick hiss when Tony gently nibbled on his shoulder.

Slowly, his clothes were pulled off till he was lying naked on the bed under his agent. Except right now, he wasn't his agent, he was something much more than that. He was his lover. Right now, he was his everything.

Tony kissed a trail down his body as his fingers gripped his sides. He threw his head back and moaned. He knew what Tony was trained to do, but it still amazed him how something so simple could be so erotic.

When Tony's warm mouth found his nipple, his back arched involuntarily again. The younger man's hands moved down lower till they rested on his inner thighs, slowly massaging them. Jethro opened his legs wider, begging to be touched in a place more intimate, but Tony wouldn't do it. He kissed and caressed, but he kept it surprisingly innocent. And yet, Jethro was going crazy with lust.

He thrust his hips forward, his body growing needy for release. Tony pulled away from his chest and sat up straight. He moved his hands lower down Jethro's calves, kneading the muscles, pinching the nerves. It hurt so badly, yet somehow, the pain only increased his pleasure. He was growing desperate. He wanted Tony in so many more ways than he ever thought he could. He wanted to touch him, to kiss him. He wanted to make love with him.

It was an urge that caught him completely off guard and sent him hurtling himself into a sitting position and grabbing Tony by his shoulders and pulling him close again. The younger man's smooth skin brushed against his hairy calloused body and he felt he could no longer control his need.

He pushed the younger man down until his backside was rested on his ankles and then he crawled onto Tony's lap. He pushed that stupid loincloth out of the way and pressed their members together.

He let out a shaky breath and dropped his head onto Tony's shoulder with his eyes shut. When his agent wrapped his arms around him, he felt more at home than he had since Shannon died. It scared him, so much, but it also made him feel things he couldn't describe. All he knew was that they were good. That might have scared him more.

Tony pressed a soft kiss to his temple before he slowly started rocking back and forth. The friction caused their bodies to rub together. He gripped his lover's shoulder with a vice grip as wave after wave of ecstasy washed over him.

He couldn't stop him. When his release finally happened, he gasped out Tony's name as the younger man continued to move. After that, he couldn't stand up any longer.

The nausea came back, stronger than before. Jethro couldn't believe he had done that. He wasn't supposed to do that. He was on an assignment, not shacked up in his house. So why couldn't he stop himself? The second Tony started touching him, he couldn't let go. He needed it to keep going.

But then his clothes were tossed on his stomach and Tony stood at the foot of the bed, looking just as badly as he had when he first entered. "Amalea probably watched the whole thing, she knows you finished. She'll be here soon, you should get dressed."

He felt his heart shatter. What did he just do? He was here to help Tony, and he just made everything a thousand times worse. What was wrong with him?

Jethro quickly got dressed, his body weighed down with guilt. The entire time, Tony kept his back to him. He wouldn't look at him, and Jethro couldn't fault him for that.

That was when he remembered that he still had the other ear wig in his pocket. Now the question was how to hand it to his agent without Amalea finding out.

He did the only thing he could think of. He approached his friend, grabbed him by the shoulder, spun him around and kissed him for all he was worth.

His hands moved up to the sides of his face and carefully slid the wig into Tony's right ear. "You're not alone," he whispered when they finally pulled apart.

Tony swallowed a lump in his throat just as they heard footsteps coming down the hall. "Make it look good."

Jethro nodded. He pushed away just as the door swung open and Amalea entered. He put on his brightest, fakest grin he could muster. "Wow, he's good." He turned to the bitch. "I gotta tell ya, I always heard rumors about this guy, but I never expected this." He gave Tony a wink.

Amalea stepped closer. "I'm glad you approve. This one would be an excellent choice for you, Tom. Seeing as he already works for you. It wouldn't be difficult to explain." She and Tony turned to each other at the same time. She gave him a quick nod, which apparently meant he was free to leave as he walked out. He didn't turn back.

Still trying to hold onto his alias, he kept his smile firmly in place. "How much?"

"Bidding starts at twenty-thousand."

He whistled. "That's a bit steep, ain't it? He's not exactly young." He grabbed his glasses and the two of them finally left the room.

Amalea chuckled. "Do you know why I had only a few older men to show you?"

Jethro shrugged. "They never got bought before?"

"The blonde one did. His caretaker was killed a few years ago, so we brought him back. No, we keep them because as wonderful as our younger Dependents are," she stopped and turned to face him, "the older ones have had more experience perfecting their skills. They usually go for more money. And Tony is the best we've ever had."

Jethro wanted to slap her. No, he didn't want to just slap her, he wanted to beat her to death. He wanted to destroy all of those perfect little teeth, break that perfect little nose and gouge out those perfect little eyes. He wanted her to suffer for what she was doing.

"I believe it."

She nodded. "Well, it has been a pleasure meeting with you, Tom. But unfortunately our time is up. I hope you enjoyed your stay." She gave another nod and two large men crowded him. One was the same man who brought him here, but the other one he had never seen before. "John and Dale will bring you back to your house. Now if you'll excuse me, I have some very important business to attend to." She didn't stick around after that.

John and Dale led him back to the car and quickly bagged him again. This time, he was grateful. He didn't want these bastards to see the rivers of tears flowing down his cheeks.

* * *

><p><strong>So, like I said, some very dirty smut. I was trying to make this scene seem more opposite to the original, because of the different emotions. And, next chapter is a fun one, you know why? Gibbs finally gets his head out of his ass! How awesome is that?<strong>

**Bob**


	23. 23

*******Heads desk* Ow. Well, I hope everybody-well, every American-had a great Thanksgiving. Mine was pretty, well, ok the day was relatively calm, and by that I mean it was the first time I remember where my mother wasn't screaming at every single moment of the day. Still busy though. And now Christmas is coming up! Which means... things might get hectic, but I am working on it! Anyways, so the moment we've all been waiting for. Gibbs breakdown. Hopefully it's not a complete letdown. It's short, but I was afraid if I took it too far, it would head into OOCness, so I figured this was safer, short and bittersweet. But, then again, what do I know. I'll shut up now.**

**23**

When they dropped him off back at Morrow's house, Jethro immediately called the office to send a car to pick him up. He left the cell phone behind that he got from Axel, and hid it in Morrow's bedroom as a safety precaution. He didn't want Amalea to know that he had left. Her suspecting that he was a fraud was one thing, but he wasn't going to make it easy for her.

It was late by the time he got back to the office. Once he was there, Kate gave him terrible news. They had the man who killed Whitmore in custody. He had followed them back to the compound. Currently, he was waiting in an interrogation room so they could find out what he knew.

"You handle it," was all he said to Kate before he left the squad room. He couldn't deal with any of this right now. He needed to be alone.

That was how he found himself back in Autopsy again. His back leaned against the wall of drawers as tears he was too damn tired to fight cascaded down his face.

What did he just do? Did he really screw Tony again? He knew what Tony had been through, he knew the kind of place he was stuck in. He saw it. He saw what was happening to those children, and yet he still fucked his agent? Why would he do that?

His mind was awhirl with images of Tony over the three years they worked together. He thought about all of the times he kicked him while he was down. Every time he handed out a compliment, only to counter it with an insult a moment later. Tony never had anyone to really care about him in his life. His parents _sold_ him to a pedophile who used him daily for his own personal enjoyment. How did Jethro ever believe that he was better than these people? He was worse. Tony knew he couldn't trust the people at the ring, he knew they would hurt him. But he trusted his boss, and Jethro had never done anything to deserve that.

He dropped his head back against the cold metal. Seeing Tony made everything come into focus. None of this was Tony's fault. How could it be? He didn't know any better. He was taught since he was four years old that he didn't matter. He wasn't weak. He was the strongest man that Jethro had ever met.

This was all his fault. If he had actually shown that he gave a crap, maybe Tony would have been able to talk to him. Maybe if ever showed interest in his agent's personal life, maybe he would have felt more comfortable sharing his most intimate secrets. But why would he trust his boss after some of the things he said to him? When he was kidnapped and dumped in that sewer to die, Jethro never stopped worrying about him. And he would never have stopped looking until he found him. Did he ever tell the young man that? Of course not, he gave him a small compliment and then ripped it away almost immediately. All because he thought it was funny. Hell, after that, why would Tony want to trust him with anything?

The doors swished open and Ducky walked in. He moved slowly, as if he already knew who waited for him. His anger was stronger now than it was during their last encounter. "I just reviewed the tape of your mission with Abby."

Jethro chuckled bitterly. "Yeah. When should I expect to be arrested?"

"Well that all depends on what you tell me now." Ducky moved closer, but still managed to keep a good distance between them, both emotionally and physically. "Tell me we heard wrong. Tell me, I didn't hear you abuse that boy further than you already had."

He kept his mouth shut. He couldn't say that, it wasn't true.

The medical examiner let out a huff of indignation. "What the hell is the matter with you? How could you possibly do that after our conversation? Did you want to be arrested?" Jethro shook his head, which just caused Ducky to get louder. "What then? What possessed you to do that to Tony for a second time?"

He shrugged. "I'm weak."

The other man was silent after that. Jethro couldn't blame him. He had never admitted that out loud before. Hell, he had never really felt it before. Even when his family died, his thought was that it wouldn't have happened if he had been around. He could have saved them. He would have succeeded where all others had failed.

But now he finally realized that he was just a man, and a bad one at that. The moment he felt Tony next to him, he lost all control over himself.

He shut his burning eyes. "I love him, Duck."

Just like that, everything he had been holding in wafted to the surface. All of the pain and agony he kept hidden since they found out Tony was missing was hitting him and it took all of his willpower not to break down crying.

He slammed his head against the wall with his eyes clenched tight. It took three deep breaths before he was able to open his mouth again. "I love him." Not because of his body, not because of his beauty. Those were nice, but there was so much more to the younger man than that. He was smart, funny, brave. Jethro admired the way he could handle any situation that crossed his path. He loved how strong he was. Tony went through so much, both in his childhood and his adulthood. He was raised to be a whore, his partner betrayed him, he had been kidnapped and nearly killed numerous times, yet he never gave up. No matter what, Tony always fought back.

Jethro only wished he realized it sooner.

After a moment, Ducky sat down next to him and wrapped an arm around his shoulder. Jethro tried to resist, he wasn't the kind of man who accepted comforting, for he was supposed to be the comforter. But after a moment, he realized he was just too damn tired to fight it. When was the last time he slept? It had been a while, he knew that much. And now he couldn't keep his eyes open any longer.

"I believe you, Jethro," said Ducky right before he drifted off to sleep. "I believe you."

_**And beauty of dawn and shadow, and the scent  
>Of flowers and gardens, woods and sea-weed blent!<strong>_

She didn't want to be here. She wanted to find out just what the hell was wrong with her boss. When Kate and Fornell had put Kort, as she learned was his name, into the car, she came back in time to hear heavy breaths and moans coming from Gibbs' microphone. It made her sick to her stomach and she wanted to tear him apart with her bare hands. It didn't help that Kort heard the whole thing and laughed throughout the entire car ride.

She was furious, but she hadn't had the chance to confront him yet. Now she sat in an interrogation room with Petty Officer Whitmore's killer. He was a cocky son of a bitch.

She placed the crime scene photos in front of him. Kort shrugged. "Looks like a suicide to me."

She put on her best imitation of Gibbs. He had pissed her off royally, but she had to admit he was still pretty terrifying. "I knew Petty Officer Whitmore. He didn't want to die. So why would he kill himself?"

The man shrugged. "Maybe he didn't want to deal with his life anymore."

Kate nodded. "It was bad. But then again, you know that, don't you?" She saw him tense and his carefree grin turned into a grimace for a single moment. If she had blinked she would have missed it. "It must have pissed you off, seeing Whitmore like that. A Petty Officer in the Navy, healthy, strong. Free." She knew she was getting to him. He kept it close to his chest, but she knew. "I know that tat on your back means you're somebody else's property."

He glared. "I'm no one's property."

"Your ink says otherwise."

"My 'ink,' as you so crudely put it, was a drunken mistake from when I was a boy. There's no big conspiracy behind it."

"So your drunken mistake happens to be the same brand for a sex slavery ring that my dead Petty Officer escaped from, the very same ring that you were outside of only a few short hours ago?"

"Coincidence."

"NCIS doesn't believe in coincidences."

He leaned back, crossing his arms over his chest and keeping his mouth shut. He didn't want to talk anymore, but she was going to make him.

"You know what I think?" That caused him to laugh again. She ignored it and continued. "I think you were put up for auction when you were eighteen. You were bought by a high ranking member of the Central Intelligence Agency, which is why they let you become a spy. Now, you're being used as an assassin by the same ring that stole your childhood. They ordered you to kill Whitmore, just like they ordered you to kill us."

"That is a very interesting theory, Agent Todd. But it won't stand up in court."

"I'm not looking for something to stand up at trial, I need to know the truth."

"Get used to being disappointed."

With a roll of her eyes, she stood up and made for the door. "You took a shot at two federal agents, Kort. Which means I can hold you for as long as I need." She pulled the door open with more force than she thought she had. "Get used to those cuffs." Then she walked out.

McGee stood in the hallway, looking just as annoyed as she felt. "He's not going to talk, is he?"

Kate shook her head. "He's the same as Amalea, they distance themselves from feeling anything to cope with what they went through. He's completely brainwashed."

"Any chance we can help him?"

"He's beyond help. All we can do now is stop these bastards before anyone else turns out like Kort." Like Tony, for example, they both thought, but neither said it.

They took one last look at the room before they went back to the bull pen. The next few days were going to be hectic. They had a raid to plan, and an agent to recover.

* * *

><p><strong>Well, the next chapter starts the big day. I didn't want to drag the story out more than I already have, since I literally could not think of anything to do for the next few days. And if I tried to do something for the next couple of days, then the story would just suck for the next couple of chapters. Again, safer, and less boring. Talk to me!<strong>

**Bob**


	24. 24

**Ta Da! The raid is about to begin. Now, there will be about, maybe, five or six chapters left. Yes, the story is almost complete. And I hope you like it. This was a hard road, and I'm grateful to everybody who has stuck with me through all of this. I would like to say thank you to all of you who have read, reviewed, put this story on your Story Alert or Favorite Story list, and of course those of you who have done all of that. I'd also like to give a great big thank you to my three beta readers, Toadflame, Finlaure and last, but certainly not least, Lialle. I cannot tell you all how grateful I am to have these three amazing people help me make this story what it is.**

**Now that I've got the sappy out, I do have a warning, there is a conversation dealing with the implied sexual abuse of a minor, nothing too graphic, but it is there, for anybody who might get queasy. It's in the last half of the story, so if you do think you might have a problem with it, I would suggest to stop reading after the page break. Again, it's nothing graphic, I'm not going to go into detail about child abuse, even I have my limits, but I was getting queasy when I wrote this, and I hated myself for writing it, so if there are any problems, feel free to skip it, I won't blame you for that.**

* * *

><p><strong>24<strong>

Kate stood in the evidence garage with a swarm of NCIS and FBI agents surrounding her. The auction was only a few short hours away and she still didn't feel ready. They had spent the last four days getting everything ready and planning their attack strategy. She must have gone over Gibbs' camera feed a hundred times to make sure she didn't miss anything.

That first day after Gibbs came back had been the worst. The fact that Gibbs had a bag over his head throughout the entire trip to the compound meant that they couldn't get a good look at the security around the perimeter. And it was because of this Kate and Fornell didn't want to risk going out there blind out of fear of putting Gibbs in danger. The fact that they didn't know what kind of resistance they would be met with at the outskirts of the mansion made Kate perpetually worried. After all, she was in charge of storming the castle, and she didn't want to endanger her boss, or her colleagues.

It was Abby who had suggested viewing this mission as if it were Protection Detail. How would she protect the President going into something like this? And oddly enough, that worked. Once she was back in her comfort zone, she knew exactly what to do.

The first thing that had to be done was to send a few teams to canvas the area and check out the security checks. When they came back with photos and videos, she really got into her zone. There were ten guard posts two miles away from the main building, surrounding the perimeter, and each post held about ten guards. Those could easily be taken care of with a sneak attack. She spent the entire third day reviewing the surrounding woods to find the best entry positions for every team. Around five o'clock on the third day, she was sure she had the perfect strategy. But now, she was actually being forced to put it all in practice.

The strangest thing happened, though. After Gibbs' undercover mission, he disappeared for a while. When he came back, he was calm. He wasn't happy, or bouncing on the balls of his feet or anything, but he was definitely in a better mood. He even apologized for how he had been treating them. Kate thought she had seen it all, and then that happened. Gibbs never apologized. He had a rule about not apologizing. And yet, he actually said that he was sorry. Kate didn't know what happened, but it kind of scared her. What could possibly make Gibbs break his most cardinal, most repeated, rule?

"Alright, listen up!" She shouted to the room. Everyone immediately quieted down. Butterflies flittered around in her stomach. Tony was usually better at this. He loved this part of the job, ordering people around. He thrived on it, and she just wasn't used to this. "Alpha team, you're with me, storming the front entrance. We go in quiet!" She looked to everyone as she said that so they knew that this applied to all of them. "They can't know that we're coming. If they do, Gibbs is as good as dead. Am I clear?"

She got a few nods and fewer mumbles of "Yes, Ma'am."

She rolled her eyes. "I can't hear you! Am I clear?"

"Yes Ma'am!" They all shouted in unison.

She smiled. Now she knew why Tony liked this so much. "Beta team, you take the south gate," she turned to each separate group and reiterated the orders she had given them earlier. FBI agents, most of whose names she never bothered to remember, were leading the attacks on the other towers. McGee and Fornell would be with her on Alpha team. "Alright, you all have your orders. Let's move out!"

Everyone started moving. Every team was taking a different route as a safety precaution. They'd all get there at different times, but they knew what to do once they got there.

Fornell strode up to her. "I just got a call from Sacks. Gibbs was just picked up. He'll be there in a few hours."

Kate nodded. "Is Sacks following him to make sure they actually arrive at the compound?'

Fornell nodded. "So far so good. Are you sure this is going to work?"

"It has to." She took a deep breath and said a quick prayer. "You ready?"

He shrugged. "As I'll ever be."

Kate climbed in the front passenger seat of her black SUV. The Alpha team would be the first to arrive and they had a lot to do once they got there. Alpha team was responsible for setting up the computer equipment and checking out the number of clients that would be inside. A few agents would stay behind to make sure their line of communications stayed open, and some of the nerds from the Computer Crimes unit would be hacking into the cameras to keep an eye on them as they moved through the compound. Every team would move as one, together, when they stormed the mansion

She turned to the driver. "Drive, McGee."

McGee put the car in gear and drove out of the garage. The look on his face showed his skepticism. "We're going to be fine McGee," she reassured him, even though she wasn't entirely sure about it. These people were paranoid, and they were prepared for everything. They were taking one hell of a risk tonight.

He nodded, but didn't say anything.

_**Tarry, ere the ineffable alms thou bring  
>Of being both the autumn and the spring<strong>_

Amalea stood in front of the mansion as her clients pulled up. She was both excited and nervous. This was her first auction, and already everything was going wrong. First there was the mess with Tony, then Francis. She's had to kill more people in the last week than Daddy ever had to eliminate in a decade. She could have sworn she saw the majority of her clients sneering at her as she greeted them. Not to mention, a few of her valets were completely incompetent. They couldn't even figure out how to park a large number of cars. She didn't know if she could do this every year.

She barely paid attention to any of the arrivals. She was too nervous. She kept checking her watch, wanting to just get this over with already. The sooner she got Tony out of here, the better. Then whoever bought him could deal with him.

A car she would recognize anywhere pulled up. Her breath caught in her throat. This was it, he was here.

Daddy Warbucks climbed out the car to be met with a round of applause. He gave a few greetings on his way to see Amalea. For the first time in days, she smiled a real smile.

"Amalea," he said as he wrapped her in a tight hug. She felt at home again. She always felt more secure when Daddy held her.

He looked the same as when she met him as a child. His hair had a little more gray to it, and his stomach was a little pudgier, but he was still the same man. The years had been kind to him.

"It's good to see you, Daddy."

"You too, my dear. Come, let me take a look at you." He held her at arm's length and studied her. "Amalea, I didn't think it was possible, but you look even more ravishing that I ever imagined."

She smiled again. "I've missed you so much, Daddy. But I assume you want to talk shop right now."

He nodded sheepishly. "I suppose I do want to see how you're handling things."

Amalea turned to Dale and told him to keep all of the guests in order and lead them to the auction hall. Then she led Daddy back to her office.

She went on for a while describing the changes she had made and the new clients she acquired. Daddy stared at her with an aura of pride. When she was finally done, he stood up and approached her.

"Do you know why I started this operation?"

The question threw her through a loop. She wasn't expecting that. Daddy never talked about why he started the Ring. So why was he talking about it now? And to her, of all people?

"I had what you might call a 'funny uncle' as a child. He first crawled into my bed when I was four. At first, I hated it. I couldn't understand what he was doing to me. I felt dirty. But I didn't push him away. I didn't know why, not until I was much older." He turned away and stood in front of the window. "My uncle cared for me in ways no one else ever could. When he held me, when he looked at me, I felt beautiful. I felt loved. But when he stopped, I kept wondering what I had done wrong. I felt lost without his love. And then I realized." He turned back to her. "I didn't have the skills to please him as an adult. He was a pedophile, a disgusting excuse for a human being only interested in me for my youth. At first, I hated him, hated that he could use me just to throw me away like that. But as I got older, an idea got into my head. How could I please people in the only way I knew how? How could I give people a lifetime of love?"

"So you started the Ring."

"It began as an escort service. But I knew I needed to do more, this needed to have more. As years went by, my escorts became younger and younger, and I was able to teach them more. A child's mind is like a sponge, it absorbs everything. A young mind is the perfect time to teach them what we do."

"Any regrets?' Amalea didn't know why she asked that. Why she felt the need to know. She didn't even know what she was expecting to hear.

"I regret falling in love with young Tony. I let him get away with too much, and I feel that might be why he decided to run away. I encouraged his rebellious nature. I suppose it attracted me. But it led to my downfall. I have not been the same since he left. There was always a void in my heart without him." He grabbed Amalea's arms and looked her dead in the eye. "But I want you to know one thing. No matter what, I am so proud of you. And I do not, for even a moment, regret naming you as my successor."

Her eyes burned as new tears formed. She pulled Daddy close and hugged him for all he was worth.

"Now come on, Darling. We have an auction to do." He pulled away after five minutes and patted her gently on the cheek, before the two of them left her office.

The auction was about to begin.

* * *

><p><strong>I just disappointed my mother because I didn't know who George M. Cohan was. I have been shamed. Moving on, regarding the conversation between Daddy and Amalea, I have no personal information regarding sexual abuse, so I apologize for any facts that I got wrong. But the reason I included it was because what Daddy has been doing is destroying innocent young lives through sexual abuse, and I guess, he needed a reason for why he could do it without batting an eye. When he was abused, he hated it, but as he got older, he made himself believe that his uncle was doing it out of love as a way of coping. So he started the ring, and hurt these children because he no longer sees it as harm, he sees it as a public service. Again, I apologize for this, but his reasonings, I think are very similar to Amalea, they went along with it in order to survive, and then they lost their humanity along the way. And I apologize for the long explanation, but this was hard for me to write without upchucking, so I don't know how anybody handles reading about it.<strong>

**Bob**


	25. 25

******I really hope you like this. I mean, this is what you've been waiting for, right? The auction, the raid, the climax, the conclusion and bringing Tony home, it's all right here. Well, ok, not all of it, there's still a few chapters left, but the auction, the raid, that's all right here. If you don't like it, I'm going to be sad. And a lot of bad happens when I get sad. I mean, I cry, I sob, I hole up in my room and light a bunch of candles and play country music. I am completely kidding of course, I'm tired and I recently discovered I have a strange addiction to homoerotica and all things related to it. It's starting to get bad. I am getting to the point that I start watching television shows on the basis that they have a gay character in them, just in the hopes that I can see some action, I am really bored, and I desperately need something to do with my time. **

**Moving on, fortunately, this chapter doesn't really have any warnings, except there's some mean people and a possibly mean cliffhanger. I don't know if it's really mean though, but I know what happens next. And this is me when I'm tired, I ramble. I apologize so I'll shut up and let you enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>25<strong>

Jethro stood in the corner, surveying the room. He recognized at least half of these people. It sickened him. He saw a string of Congressman, Admirals, and Generals. Everywhere he looked was a powerful official. How could these people be so fucked up that they condoned child slavery? How could so many people be this cruel?

He wanted to confront them, but he couldn't. They needed to believe that he was one of them, and he couldn't risk telling them his alias, in case they knew Morrow and what he looked like. He had to assume that most of them did, especially those associated with the Military.

When Amalea took the stage, a hush fell over the room. She stood before them in an elaborate evening gown that was covered top to bottom in sparkles. She was stunning, he couldn't deny it, but that was blotted by the blackness that currently filled her heart. He still couldn't believe that this woman used to be a slave. He saw Kort, and what the ring had done to him, but it still amazed him. These people were so damaged, they became a part of the very thing that destroyed them. Amalea must have been from the worst case of Stockholm Syndrome he had ever seen.

"Welcome to tonight's festivities. I trust you all had an enjoyable trip?" The room filled with laughter. Jethro figured he wasn't the only one that had been blind-folded. He wished it gave him comfort. It didn't.

"I want to thank you all for coming to my second auction. But I'm sure you all know my first." That was met with more laughter. Jethro felt the bile rise in his throat. Did she really just make a joke about being treated like a freaking farm animal? No, that wasn't even true. Farm animals were treated better than these people. "I know many of you, like me, are saddened by the retirement of our long time leader, Daddy Warbucks. I only hope you will come to love me as much as you did him." A round of applause erupted in the hall. Amalea giggled like a school girl, clapping her hands together.

When the sound finally stopped, she lowered her mouth down to the microphone again. "And now, without further ado, let's bring out our first graduate." A young man was brought onto the stage. He couldn't have been older than eighteen. His hair was dirty blond, long and wavy. He wore nothing but the same kind of loin cloth Jethro saw Tony wearing the other day.

"We'll start the bidding at five thousand dollars."

Almost immediately, men and women shouting out their bids. The bid couldn't have lasted more than five minutes, but he still racked up nineteen thousand dollars. Everyone else applauded when Amalea hit the mallet and the boy was taken backstage again. Jethro couldn't focus on anything but the boy's tear stained cheeks.

After he was gone, a young woman was brought forward. Her outfit consisted of a leather bra as well as a matching mini skirt. She was fortunately more covered than the men, but not by much. Her final selling price was twenty-five thousand.

One by one, young men and women were brought out onto the stage. At first, they were all recent 'graduates,' no older than nineteen. But as the night wore on the Dependents got older and older.

Jethro's heart pounded on his chest. He wanted Tony to be brought out already. As soon as he was, he could give the order and have this taken care of. He didn't know how much more he could take before he cracked. Every one of those people, those children, were crying when they were sent back stage. It was terrible, and he just had to sit here and take it.

To make matters worse, his ear wig was silent. The teams outside were moving quietly, in case the compound's security caught their channel. He hadn't heard anything since they started moving out. He assumed they were moving in to take the guard posts around the perimeter, but he wouldn't know for sure until somebody spoke again. He hated that he couldn't be out there with them.

His thoughts stopped when he heard Kate in his ear whisper that the first guard post was taken. Soon, the Beta team announced their victory. Jethro breathed a sigh of relief. Things were actually working out for a change. Damn it, this plan might just work after all.

At least, he thought it would, until he saw the security guards stationed around the hall. They were quietly whispering to each other, nervously fidgeting with their own ear wigs.

Jethro felt the panic rise within him. They were on their channel, and they knew they were about to be raided.

_**To those who far from dawn and harvests live.**_

Dale knew that something was wrong. It was only his first week as head of security but he could still tell that something was off. He had a feeling in his gut that something bad was about to happen.

"North post secured," said a voice in his ear. It was a female, and one he didn't recognize. None of their security guards were female, they weren't physically strong enough to take down the Dependents. So why was there a female voice in his ear?

Panic struck him. Damn it, his first week and he had to deal with this fucking mess.

There was a raid coming.

He turned to his companion. "Go get some guys and get out there. And find out how many we're looking at."

"What are you going to do?"

Dale could have shot him. "I'm gonna do my fucking job, I suggest you do the same. Now go!"

Jason nodded and left. He took Roger and Lyle with him.

Dale looked around the bidders. They all looked too preoccupied with the auction to pay any attention to him. All except one. He caught the new guy peering at him a couple of times. He pulled out his cell phone and dialed the personnel office. They were connected to his wig, but the raiders were on his channel. And if they were on his, then he was definitely on theirs.

"Personnel, this is Gladys speaking." Gladys was an old loon with a raspy voice from too many years of smoking and a nasty lisp. She was so drugged up on a daily basis Dale often wondered how she was able to function. But damn she was good at her job.

"Gladys, it's Dale. Do you know if Kort checked in yet?"

"Kort? No, we haven't heard from him in a week."

"A week? Are you sure?"

"No, I'm lying to you. Last time I heard anything from Kort, he said he was checking up on Director Morrow."

Dale turned back the man in question. Director Morrow. The new guy. The guy who kept looking his way out of the corner of his eye.

"Gladys, do me a favor, can you access NCIS' personnel records?"

"Why do you want me to do that?"

"Don't ask questions, Gladys, just do what I fucking ask!"

"Alright, alright, don't get your panties in a twist. Just gimme a sec."

Dale heard typing for a few moments before Gladys spoke again. "Ok, who do you want me to look up?"

"Agents older than fifty, males, stationed in D.C."

"There's a few."

"Send those names to my PDA." He pulled out the device and waited for the email to appear. He only had to wait a few seconds for his worst nightmare to be confirmed.

The man in front of him wasn't Director Morrow, he was named Leroy Jethro Gibbs. He was Tony DiNozzo's boss. "Shit." He ran towards the stage. He could have gone after Gibbs' first, but that was too risky. One guard post was already eliminated, that meant the raid was getting closer. He needed to warn Amalea. He needed to get their clients out of here.

He stopped by one of his friends, Devon, for a second. "Jam the ear wig frequency. Now!" He added the last part when it looked like Devon was going to question him.

By the time he got to the stage, Amalea was starting the bid on the last Dependant. DiNozzo.

Almost immediately, the crowd went wild. The bidding started at twenty thousand and from there it just kept climbing. When he stood in front of Amalea, these idiots were already at half a million bucks.

"Amalea, we have a problem."

She glared at him, even though her smile never fell. "Then deal with it."

"It's Morrow. He's really an agent. His name's Gibbs." That made her smile crumble and her eyes grow wild in panic. "He's Tony's boss. At least two guard posts have been taken out. We're about to be raided."

She turned to him and looked directly in his eyes. Instead of trying to portray his sincerity with a look, he showed her the file Gladys sent him.

She swallowed a lump in her throat before turning back to the microphone. "Ladies and Gentlemen, I regret to inform you that we have to cut the evening short." Cries of indignation filled the hall. "There is a mole in our organization." Silence fell over everyone. Amalea pointed directly at the imposter. "And it is that man. Director Tom Morrow!"

Almost immediately, the man was surrounded by angry clients. Dale was sure the man would be dead in only a handful of minutes. The crowd was going insane, but only a few were actually trying to run away. Most were busy with the agent.

Dale grabbed Amalea's arm and started to lead her outside. She had a car waiting outside for just this very occasion. "Are you sure that was a wise decision?"

"One of the prime rules in this business. They'll be too busy trying to kill Gibbs, and I'll have a better chance of getting away."

"I thought we had to protect our clients."

"Not during a raid."

They went backstage and started to herald all of the Dependents away from the stage. "Take care of them," Amalea said, and Dale knew exactly what she meant. They were a liability. They needed to die.

But before he could, Dale heard something in his ear that made him not want to kill only the Dependents, but also kill every guard who worked for him. Gibbs was speaking in his ear.

"Move in. Move in now."

* * *

><p><strong>So, mean cliffhanger? Not so mean? I mean, Gibbs is in trouble, and it's definitely mean for the ring, but I don't know. On another note, my finals start tomorrow and I am deeply upset by that. I hate tests. Passionately. But it also means that school is almost over (Which means I only have one more semester before I'm forced to get a real job). And the holidays are almost upon us. So, Happy Early Holidays, and I hope your shopping experiences over the next few weeks are calm and tranquil. I doubt they will be, but I hope for it.<strong>

**Bob**


	26. 26

******Ok, well, personally, I like how this chapter turned out, and I really hope you like it too. I know a lot of people are getting annoyed with the cliffhangers and taking so long to end this, but quite frankly considering all the build up I did to this, if I just ended the story, I think it would be a bit of a letdown. I mean, if I just ended it, how much of an anticlimax would that be? But then again, I'm exhausted and I have a headache, so I could very well be missing a huge mistake or plot hole. I apologize for that. But because I'm so tired, I'm keeping this short.**

* * *

><p><strong>26<strong>

__The group crowded around Jethro, ready to kill him. If any of them were armed, they would have. Damn, that bitch was good.

He couldn't hear what anyone was saying, they were all just yelling incoherently at the same time. One guy tried to punch him. He ducked and charged at the guy's gut. He landed a solid punch to his face before he pushed away and ran for the stage. He needed to get to Tony. But the crowd wouldn't let him pass. They just kept pummeling into him.

He raised his wrist to his mouth and tried to yell through the din, "Move in. Move in now!"

"He has a microphone!" some bitch yelled into his ear.

The next thing Jethro knew, his arms were being grabbed and a fist was slamming into his abdomen. Somebody ripped the mic off his jacket sleeve and stomped it on the ground.

Shit, he thought. Where were his agents? Why weren't they storming this place already? Why wasn't security trying to put him out of his misery?

He blamed the hectic situation for why he didn't figure it out sooner.

"The FBI and NCIS will be here any second!" He shouted, hoping to get everybody's attention. "And instead of running, you're wasting time with me?" That got everyone's attention. "Amalea and her people already ran, why the hell aren't you?"

Some of the group began to falter. They looked around, suddenly second guessing themselves and their hosts. His arms were still being held, now stronger than before. And one guy, somebody he recognized as a Marine Officer, stepped forward. He had a look in his eye that Jethro didn't like. A look that said he knew he was going down, but he was going to make sure somebody went down with him.

He grabbed Jethro around his head and panic struck the agent. He was a trained Marine, he knew what this meant. He tried to kick, push the guys away from him, anything to keep from having his neck snapped, but there were just too many. And as some people started to run away, more people got pushed into him, making moving almost impossible. The entire place was a mad house "DiNozzo!" he called, hoping his agent could still help him. But his call went unanswered.

But then the doors swung open and a swarm of FBI and NCIS agents filled the hall, all screaming "Federal Agents!" or for their respective agency. Kate and Fornell led a group towards him, guns raised and ready to shoot every single person here.

But Jethro noted that the guy in front of him looked even more determined than before. He didn't care if he died or not. He was still planning on killing him.

"Shoot him!"

A single bullet ripped through the man's head and splattered Jethro with his blood. Everyone else finally began to back away.

"Where's DiNozzo?" Kate asked as she handed him his sidearm.

"Stage." He grabbed the gun and started running, but the crowd was still too dense, he had a hard time making it through. Then he heard gun shots.

He stopped, fear overwhelming him. He expected the worst. Tony was shot by security for bringing Feds here. Or they found the earwig that Jethro gave him.

But then he saw Amalea come back on stage, Tony in toe. She held a gun to his head.

"Back the fuck off!"

Jethro didn't hesitate. He raised his gun and took aim. He had a better angle than the others and he knew he could blow the bitch's head off without hurting his agent.

She shouted for them to put their guns down again, she was getting more frantic and Jethro knew that in only a few short moments, she wouldn't hesitate to pull the trigger. He needed to take the shot now.

But just as his bullet ripped through the air, Tony pushed her back behind the curtain on the stage. Jethro cursed under his breath. What the hell was he thinking?

Shots echoed across the hall and at least five agents went down. Jethro automatically ducked for cover before he took off towards the stage.

He knew he should have checked on the fallen agents first, but he couldn't, there was someone he had to check on first. He needed to get to Tony.

Gun drawn, he neared the stage. But when he got past the curtain, he only found Amalea. She was shaking.

He kept his gun pointed at her as he approached. "Where's Tony?"

She looked up and glared. "You betrayed me."

"Where the hell is my agent?"

"Why the fuck would I tell you? This is all your fault, my men are dead because of you. And what good did it do, Director," she said the last part with a sneer. "Do you think anyone here is ever going to see the inside of a jail cell? This is going to go away and you 'll be left with nothing. All because of a cheap fuck."

He stepped closer till his gun was pressed against her forehead. Her breath hitched but otherwise stayed calm.

"If I can't arrest you, I will kill you where you lie unless you tell me what the hell happened to my agent. Now!"

_**Listen, thou mayest yet return**_

"There is a mole in our organization. And it is that man, Director Tom Morrow!"

Tony felt all the blood drain out of his body at Amalea's words. How did Gibbs even get made? There was nobody more careful, this was just impossible. Getting made was screwing up, and Gibbs never screwed up.

He saw the crowd going for Gibbs. He wanted to help him, but his hands were bound in front of him, he had no weapon, and he still had that stupid collar around his neck. The only time Amalea took the damn thing off was during his many free trials. Not to mention the amount of pain he was in. No, he'd be more of a hindrance at this point than anything.

One of the security guards approached him, holding the damn remote to his collar and a gun. "You're coming with me."

Tony gave the guy a long look. This wasn't about the safety of the ring, this was just a pervert. Well he was sick of perverts.

"Move that ass or I'll-" before he could finish, Tony charged at his gut. The man went down with a groan. For added measure, Tony punched him in the face to knock him out.

He grabbed the gun and a knife to cut the rope around his wrists and took off after Amalea. He should have watched where he was going, but that sentiment was becoming the story of his life. After everything he'd been through over the last two weeks, he wasn't thinking like a cop anymore. He was back to being that fifteen year old boy, the murderer who killed his teacher when the prick bent him over his desk and shoved a hot poker up his backside. He wasn't thinking logically, he was thinking out of anger. And his feet, his bare feet paid the price.

Somebody kicked over a vase. It shattered, and left small sharp pieces all over the floor. Tony managed to step on them.

He screamed in agony as he fell to the floor. Ceramic pieces were stuck in the pads and heels and it hurt like hell. The blood wouldn't stop flowing and he knew it would be a bite to walk on. But he had to do it. Amalea might be his only chance to make sure he and Gibbs got out of here alive. And better he catch her than another agent.

He pulled the vase pieces out of his foot and tried to stand. It took him three tries before he was actually able to keep his weight up. By then, he started to hear the panic rise as agents swarmed the compound. He had to move fast if he was going to get to Amalea first.

He ignored the pain as best he could as he limped after her. The gun was raised in front of him. He wasn't going to make another mistake. He was a Federal freaking Agent and damn it he was going to act like it.

He didn't have to go too far when he finally found the woman. It looked like she was heading for the emergency exit. Typical. He figured out where that was when he was twelve.

He cocked the gun and made sure it was off safety before he spoke.

"Federal Agent. Turn around and put your hands on your head."

They didn't listen. But he didn't expect them to. There were three security guards with her. All three pulled a gun. He fired six shots and double tapped each one in the chest. They fell to the floor in a heap. Now it was just him and Amalea. He held a gun, she had a remote.

"Are you really going to shoot an unarmed woman, Agent DiNozzo." She said his name with a sneer.

"The last word I would ever use to describe you is unarmed."

She smiled. "You're absolutely right." She hit the button.

Pain ripped through him, sending him falling to the ground. The gun slipped out of his grasp and slid across the floor. Amalea slowly approached him, still holding down the button. Tears leaked out of Tony's eyes. But she didn't let go until the gun was in her hand.

"You're weak. You should have just shot me."

He laughed. "Yeah, I could say the same about you. Why don't you just shoot me?"

Her smile turned into a glare. "After what you did to me, you deserve worse."

"I think you're bluffing. I don't think you have the stones to kill me."

"Would you like me to prove you wrong?" Her grin was back, along with a sing song tone to mock him. Tony swallowed a lump in his throat. He knew Amalea, he grew up with her. But she wasn't the same girl anymore. She was completely broken. He honestly wasn't sure what she was capable of anymore.

He was saved from having to figure that out when he heard shots fired down the hall, the same way she was headed.

It was his turn to smile. "That'll be the cavalry."

Amalea fired blindly towards the approaching agents as Tony slowly climbed to his feet. As soon as he was standing, Amalea grabbed him by the collar and pulled him back towards the auction hall, still firing behind her.

"FBI, freeze!" Somebody who Tony didn't recognize shouted in front on them. They were standing back near the broken vase, only this time, Tony made sure to watch where he stepped.

Amalea grabbed his throat and pulled him against her, her gun raised at his head. "Drop it or I kill him!"

"It's over! Now drop the gun."

"Here's how it's gonna work. I'm walking out of here, and he's coming with me!"

"Give it up, Amalea," Tony said, "They'll shoot you if you even think about shooting me."

Amalea laughed. "I'm not an idiot, Tony, they aren't gonna risk the death of one of their own."

"I don't know, I'm not really on good terms with the FBI. The might let me die if it means killing you." The entire time he talked, Amalea moved backwards, towards the stage. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw agents swooping in to collect the auctioneers. He saw the people trying to escape, some tried to talk their way out of it.

He smiled. "Take a look. You're not gettin' outta here. The only way you'll live is to turn yourself in now."

He could feel her heart pounding against his back. Agents were pressing her, and she knew her world was about to crumble.

Shit. This might have worked with the scared little girl he knew when he was a kid, but that girl was gone. She shut down to survive and now... She would rather die than go to jail. And Tony was the one who did it to her.

"Amalea, I am telling you, they will kill you. You will die if you don't put that gun down. Don't do this. Please."

"Listen to Agent DiNozzo, Amalea," one of the Feebs shouted. "You don't wanna die."

Tony tried again. "Amalea, please I'm begging you, put the gun down!"

"What do you care? You left me here! You could have taken me with you and you left me here!"

"Amalea!"

"Back the fuck off!" she screamed to the Feds. Crap, Tony knew she was losing it. She was going to shoot him.

He tried to rearrange his body without her noticing. If he was going to get out of this alive, he had to act quick.

But as he was turning, he saw Gibbs. His gun was raised up and he was aiming at Amalea. Gibbs was a better shot than anybody he knew, and he had a clearer shot than anyone else.

Tony couldn't wait, Gibbs wouldn' couldn't think, he could only react. He pushed the gun away from his temple and threw his body back, taking Amalea to the ground as the bullet flew through the air at the exact spot Amalea's head was moments before.

The gun flew out of her hand and slid across the floor. "Don't shoot! She's unarmed," he screamed.

"Get off me!" She struggled underneath his weight, but he wouldn't budge, it was the only way to protect her. That was the most important thing right now. Keeping her safe. He failed her once and he wasn't going to do that again.

The agents approached, guns still raised, in case she tried something. But they didn't get far. Only moments later, an automatic weapon erupted and took them all down.

Tony felt panic rise in him. Shit, he thought. "No!" He tried to get up and check on them, but somebody grabbed him and pulled him away. "No! Let me go!" He didn't see who had him, but he knew it was more than one. No matter how hard he struggled, they wouldn't let him go. "Get off me. Boss! Gibbs!" he kept screaming, kept trying to get away. He already survived two weeks like this, he couldn't take more, especially now. This was his fucking rescue mission, for crying out loud!

Then he felt the shock. The pain shot through him once more. Damn he was getting sick of that.

When the pain finally stopped and he hung limply in his new captor's arms, someone finally stepped into his line if sight. He almost expected to see Daddy. He always had a thing for him, if that's what you want to call it. That bastard took Tony's virginity when he was only nine years old.

But the man standing in front of him was definitely not Daddy, but that didn't mean Tony didn't recognize him.

"Hello, Agent DiNozzo," he said with a grin.

* * *

><p><strong>See? I told you last time this was a worse cliffhanger. But good news! There is only like four chapters left of the story (and no, they are not all climax chapters, there is a couple resolution chapters). So this disaster is almost over! So close! So close!<strong>

**Bob**


	27. 27

******Well, I hope everybody had a pleasant holiday. Mine was good, hectic, which is why this completed chapter has been sitting on my computer and not posted. Time was an issue for me, which is also why I am posting this at 2:30 in the morning. My mother has decided that Spring Cleaning came a few months early. Moving around my house was nigh impossible for a while there, and then family came over for the holiday, which resulted in arguing and complaining and cleaning. And more cleaning, and cooking. To put it simply, this was a hectic week.**

**Moving on, before you all kill me, we have reached the end of the climax! No more evil cliffhangers! There's still going to be, maybe two or three resolution chapters, but then it is DONE. And what a road it took. So, because of that, I will shut up, and let you enjoy.**

* * *

><p><strong>27<strong>

"There's an emergency exit, on the south side of the compound. He was probably taken that way."

Jethro spared a single look behind him. The agents were hurt, but their Kevlar kept them alive. That was at least something good.

He ducked away from the curtain. "Kate!" He called. When she looked up, he jerked his head, indicating that she was with him. She didn't question it, just ran forward with McGee and Fornell in toe.

Kate looked around the stage. "Where's Tony?"

He ignored her and turned to Fornell. "Cuff her. Do not let her out of your sight!" Then he ran towards the exit. He knew his agents were following him. He raised his wrist to his mouth to shout into his microphone when he remembered that it was smashed by the angry mob. He cursed under his breath and turned back around to yell at Kate while still running. "I need all available agents. South side. There's an emergency exit."

"Somebody took Tony again?" Kate shouted.

He ignored the indignation in her voice and just kept running. With a huff, Kate repeated the message into her wrist mic.

"Who's got him now?" McGee asked.

"I don't know!" All he knew was that somebody had his agent, and he had to find him. That was the only thing that mattered. The FBI could take the bust, they could cuff every person in here for all he cared. All that mattered to Jethro was Tony. He was the only one that mattered.

The place was a mad house. Everyone was running around trying to escape. Jethro ignored every single one of them. He just kept running. Even when he ran out of breath, he wouldn't stop.

He slammed his shoulder into the exit door and into the chilly night air. He stopped and sucked in his breath. Apparently a few people figured out where the emergency exit was. There had to be at least a dozen cars. And those were just the ones he could see. More might have already gotten away. He could only hope Tony was still here.

He heard Kate behind him asking for reinforcements. Jethro took off running again, this time to the head of the line. He jumped in front of the car and fired a shot into the grill. The car slammed on its breaks inches away from him. Kate and McGee went down the line and ordered everybody out of the car. Jethro stayed where he was. After a moment, somebody stepped out of the backseat. Daddy Warbucks. Oh how he was going to enjoy this.

"I trust you're going to pay for that."

"Don't count on it."

Daddy smiled. "I didn't do anything wrong."

"Step away from the car." Jethro didn't want to talk to this man any more than he had to. He just wanted to find Tony, and he wouldn't put it past this man to have taken him. Anything to protect himself.

At first, it looked like Daddy was going to try something. But then Kate showed up and physically pushed him away from the car. "You can't do this! This is assault."

"Save it for somebody who cares," Kate growled as she checked inside the car. "It's clear, Gibbs."

"Can I go now?"

He wanted to shoot this prick. Badly. But Kate stopped him by roughly grabbing the man and slapped some handcuffs on his wrists. "Daddy Warbucks, or whatever the hell your real name is, you are under arrest for slavery and child prostitution."

"McGee," Jethro called. "Search every car. All of them!"

His team started searching every car in the line. Some of them tried to run or drive around them, so Jethro took out their tires.

"Boss!" McGee called from further down the line.

Jethro left Daddy cuffed in his car as more agents came storming out to help keep things under control. "Watch him!" Jethro ordered the first FBI agent he saw, a young black man around Tony's age. He thought his name was Slacks or something.

Slacks nodded before moving to watch the old geezer. Jethro went to see what his agent was crying about.

When he reached the younger man, his gut lurched. An older man with a cruel smile that screamed the man thought he was untouchable got out of the back of the black town car. "Agent Gibbs."

"Secretary." He couldn't believe it. Secnav was involved in this. But that gave him a thought. If Daddy didn't have Tony, then who else would want to take him? Maybe someone who thought he could get away with it. And who better than Tony's own boss?

"McGee, search the car."

Secnav chuckled. "Is that really necessary, Gibbs? I'm on your side after all."

Jethro glared. "Are you? What are you doing here then?"

"I came to help you out with your raid. What else would I be doing here?"

"Except Morrow didn't tell you about the raid." Jethro made sure of that. There was no guarantee that Secnav wasn't involved and Jethro refused to take the risk when his agent's life was at stake. "And if you're here to help, why are you running?"

Secnav gave him a condescending look. "Who's running? I came here to prevent them from running."

Jethro turned to his youngest agent, still standing there gaping like a fish. "Get to work, Agent McGee."

"I wouldn't if you still want to be employed in the morning," the secretary called over his shoulder. Then he turned back to Jethro with that damn smile on his face. "You too, Gibbs."

Jethro glared again. He knew he was asking a lot from his agent, but not even Secnav could get away with this. If he had to lose his job to save Tony, then so be it. But he would understand if McGee wouldn't.

But the young man surprised him with how strong he was getting. "I'm sorry, Mr. Secretary, but I need to do my job. Please step away from the vehicle."

Secnav's smile finally fell. Jethro had never felt more proud of his Probie. The Secretary wasn't as happy. He had a look on his eye that screamed Jethro and McGee should start looking for alternate work. He was too damn confident, but Jethro just knew he was the one they were looking for. He could feel it down to his very bones.

But the longer McGee searched, the more worried he became. It was a car, there weren't a lot of places to hide a grown man. Trunk or backseat. Those were pretty much his options. But Tony wasn't here.

Secnav gave him another arrogant grin. "I would say start updating your resume, but somehow I don't think it'll matter."

"I don't think so. You're still involved with the ring, which means you're still under arrest."

"Give it up Gibbs! Some little cheap whore isn't worth your career!"

Jethro wound back and slammed his fist into the Secretary's face. It was career suicide, but damn it, Tony was not some cheap whore. He was a better person than everyone standing here. He deserved respect, and some horny prick was not going to talk down about him.

"Gibbs!" Kate yelled. At first, Jethro thought she was yelling at him for assaulting a suspect, until she kept talking. "He's under the seat!"

He watched as Secnav paled dramatically. Son of a bitch.

When he tried to approach the car, the secretary attacked him. He tackled him into the ground, Jethro's head slammed into the side of the car. His vision blacked out on him, leaving him vulnerable to a fist in the face. Everything was cloudy but he still gave it all he had. Tony kept screaming for help. Jethro didn't know why the others weren't helping him. But then heard tires screeching.

Son of a bitch.

He was able to move his head just in time before the back wheel tire rolled over him.

"Get back here!" the secretary called at the fleeing vehicle. He was so preoccupied with his escape leaving without him, Jethro was able to get a good strike on him, sending him falling to the ground.

Slowly, he got to his feet, panting heavily. "Stop that fucking car!"

Kate and McGee were already running, but he couldn't move as fast as them. His head was spinning and he could barely stand up straight without wanting to throw up. By the time he finally got going, he knew it was too late. The car was going too fast and had too long of a head start. His only hope now was if the others could get a plate number. He cursed under his breath. They went through all of this to get Tony back, and they failed. They fucking failed him. Again.

The others were shooting at the car, but the bullets just bounced off like they were stones. He wasn't surprised that Secnav had an armored car. He was that kind of bastard.

"Get back here!" Slacks shouted at Daddy as he ran in front of the car, cutting him off from the exit. The driver tried to swerve out of the way, but it didn't matter, Jethro watched as Daddy slammed into the hood of the car and tumbled over the roof and onto the ground behind.

His eyes bugged out of his head and his breath caught in his throat. He couldn't believe that just happened. Why the hell would Daddy do that? He had nothing to gain. Was he really that terrified about going to jail that he would kill himself?

The car slammed into the wall at the side of the exit. Jethro's gut churned. He ran, despite the nausea and the pain in his head, he ran. Tony was hidden somewhere in that car, and that was a hard crash. He couldn't guarantee that his agent would be alright. He could only hope.

Kate was the first to reach the car, followed closely be McGee. They approached the driver's side door with their guns raised.

"Don't even think about it," said Kate breathlessly.

Jethro figured those two had the driver set, so he immediately went to the back door. "Tony!"

"Boss! Get me out of here." The call came from the seat.

He grabbed the seat and pulled. It didn't come up, but it jiggled. The bastard put Tony in the seat. Literally.

He crawled inside the car so he could find the latch. There had to be a latch. There was just no way that the Secretary had a freaking hole in his backseat without a way to open it.

It took some digging, he finally found it. It was hidden behind the left seat. When he heard the click, he felt a wave of relief course through him. And before he had the chance to pull it up, the seat flew open, nearly hitting him in the face.

But he didn't care. There was Tony, half naked, sweating profusely and panting heavily, but alive. He pulled his too long body out of the ridiculously small hole, his hand pulling at the collar around his throat. "Get this off me! Get it off me!" He was panicking. Jethro grabbed him to try and get him to calm down, but it didn't seem to be working.

"Tony, Tony! Calm down, calm down I got you. Calm down."

"Get this off me." He kept tugging at the collar, but it was metal, thick, and it wouldn't break.

"You need the key," came a choked out reply behind them. Jethro turned around. Daddy lay on the ground, blood spilled out of his mouth. He was lucky to still be alive, but Jethro was sure he wouldn't be for long. "I have a copy in my pocket."

Jethro slowly approached. Daddy looked like he could barely move, his arms were dislocated because of the handcuffs that restrained his wrists behind his back. His face was destroyed and his body was mangled in ways a human body should not be folded. The fact that he was still conscious was a miracle.

"You just killed yourself to help Tony. Why?" It didn't make any sense. This was a man who destroyed children for a living, why would he go through all of the trouble to protect one?

Daddy tried to laugh, but it came out as a gargle as blood kept spilling from between his lips. "People do crazy things for love, I guess."

The thought made Jethro sick to his stomach, the fact that this man who had caused his agent so much pain and suffering could claim to love him. Daddy Warbucks didn't know what love meant. Nothing he did in his life was done for love.

"Take care of him, he deserves that."

Jethro nodded. He knew that. "He deserved more than you." Daddy gargled again while Jethro searched through his pockets for the key. His fingers finally wrapped around a piece of metal. It didn't look like a key, but upon closer inspection of the collar, he saw exactly where it fit. The collar fell off easily. Tony breathed a sigh of relief while tears streamed silently down his face.

Jethro didn't care who saw, he didn't care what anyone thought, he was filled with such an intense relief he couldn't stop himself. He grabbed Tony by the shoulder and pulled him in for a tight hug. A hug he never wanted to let go of, even if Tony didn't reciprocate. But after a moment of standing there awkwardly, he felt two strong, bare arms wrapped around his shoulders. A feeling he hadn't had in years crept up on him. Something he hadn't felt since Shannon died. He felt at home.

"Thank you," Tony whispered in his ear. Even though his voice was quiet, Jethro could hear the way the way the young man was barely holding it together. "Thank you for finding me."

Jethro shook his head as he blinked back his own tears. Tony didn't owe him a thank you. "I'd go to the end of the earth and back to find you." He hoped he portrayed what he meant. He couldn't lose the younger man. He couldn't lose another person that he loved, especially one he loved as much as the man in his arms. He never wanted to let go. He just wanted to stand here forever.

But then Kate approached them. She didn't say anything, but tapped on Jethro's shoulder, effectively ending the hug. He stepped back, allowing Kate a chance to step up and envelope the saved agent in her own embrace.

Tony hugged her back almost immediately. He whispered a soft thank you in her ear. She nodded softly against his shoulder but didn't say anything, at least not anything Jethro could hear. It didn't matter either way.

He felt his knees give out for a split second. He looked around and saw what he had caused. The number of powerful people being put into handcuffs, Daddy lying dead on the ground. So many lives destroyed, and he honestly didn't know if he actually saved one. Every one of the victims here were already destroyed beyond repair, did he really help anyone? Did he really help Tony?

He looked over to where McGee was taking his turn hugging Tony. Somebody had been kind and gave him a jacket to wear.

For a split second, Tony caught his eye. The older agent saw something he didn't realize until now he never saw before. It was a look, just a simple look, but it was filled with calm and relief.

Happiness.

Maybe he did do something good tonight.

* * *

><p><strong>So, Tony was found. Are you excited? Please tell me you're excited! Or at the very least content. I'll settle for content and not angry at me anymore.<strong>

**Oh, and before I forget, Happy New Year!**

**Bob**


	28. 28

******And so begins the resolution. And it is official, there are three chapters in total, which means two after this. Chapter 29 is with Lialle, the awesome beta reader, as we speak, so hopefully, if all goes well, it will be up in a couple of days. And as soon as this is posted, I'm going to try and get chapter 30 done, so I can finally end this story! This close! This close! So I'm going to shut up and let you enjoy.**

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><p><strong>28<strong>

The ride up to the bullpen in the elevator was quiet. Tony stood in the back corner, leaning casually against the cold metal wall. His posture was like his usual self, but Jethro could still see the remnants of his captivity in his eyes. It would be a long time before he was ok, but he would get there. Jethro would make sure of that.

The elevator dinged as the doors opened on their floor. Jethro stepped out first, followed closely by Tony and Kate with McGee taking up the rear. The floor was quiet, a swarm of agents stood and stared at them as they neared their desks. Abby, Ducky and Palmer stood there, waiting impatiently for them to approach. Jethro could see the tears running down his scientist's face. It broke his heart. He knew that he should have helped her out these last few days, but he was too focused on his own problems to bother with hers. Tony was her best friend, this wasn't easy for her, but all Jethro could care about was his own grief. He owed her an apology.

Tony slowly walked over to the crowd around his desk. He towered over each one of them, but now, with the way he stood, he looked so small, so broken. Gently, Abby pulled him into a tight embrace. Tony hugged her back immediately. The other two wrapped themselves around the man as well. They didn't move or speak, but instead just stood there and held each other.

Jethro immediately went to sit at his desk. He had a lot of paperwork to fill out before he could go home and a lot of people had to be booked and processed. He didn't know how many lawyers he'd have to deal with, but he knew that each person that he arrested had lawyered up. It didn't matter; he saw each one of them placing bids on slaves. Still, it wouldn't hurt if someone tried to cut a deal. It would definitely make his job easier.

Kate approached him and said quietly, "Gibbs, I have a thought."

Jethro nodded. He knew what she wanted to do. "Do it."

"Really?" Clearly she didn't think he'd go along with it.

He looked up at his agent still being squeezed to death by his family and nodded again. "They both need it."

Kate turned to McGee to do as she asked. After the young man left, she approached the Tony sandwich.

She called his name to get his attention. When everyone finally cleared around him, she spoke, "There's someone else who wants to see you. I know you probably don't wanna see him, but I think you should. Just listen to him."

McGee came back with Fanelli behind him. The older man wasn't cuffed. As soon as he saw his son, he stopped and a tear leaked out of his eye. "Tony," he breathed out.

Tony looked at the man he hadn't seen in years with a look of complete shock on his face. He didn't look angry, or disgusted, so Jethro took that as a good sign, but it didn't mean the younger man wouldn't blow up. He knew Tony probably didn't want to ever see this man again, but they needed to talk. He felt for Fanelli, he knew what he was feeling. It was that same regret and pain Jethro had felt since Whitmore showed up in his basement and told him what happened to Tony when he was a child. It didn't seem fair that he got the chance to apologize when the older man didn't.

Fanelli stepped forward until there was only a foot of space between him and his boy. He didn't try and reach forward, didn't try to touch him at all, but it was clear how much he wanted to.

"Look at you." His voice was shaking. "You grew up to be quite a looker. Course, I knew you would." He saw Tony tense and changed the subject. Jethro was grateful the older man picked up on his son's discomfort. Tony was taken and almost sold to the highest bidder because of his beauty; it had to have been a touchy subject. "I don't know how to apologize to you, I don't think I can, it wouldn't be enough. What I did to you, and your sister," he paused again, his voice was barely audible now, "There are no words to describe how sorry I am, and I wish I could take it back, or give you a good reason, but I can't, there's nothing that can ever excuse me from what I did to you—"

Before he could say anything else, Tony pulled him forward and wrapped his arms around his father. He heard McGee gasp while the women wiped away their tears.

At first, Fanelli didn't move, no doubt he was as surprised as Jethro. They didn't expect Tony to react like that. After everything, he figured the old man was about to be beaten within an inch of his life. An embrace was not what he expected to happen.

Fanelli kept whispering "I'm sorry" into Tony's ear after he finally returned the hug. Jethro turned away. He felt uncomfortable playing witness to this. Fanelli choked up a sob. Jethro closed his eyes and swallowed down his own urge to cry. He couldn't believe how forgiving his agent was. He expected much more of a fight, but Tony forgave his father like it was nothing, like he just yelled at him for misbehaving, instead of selling him like he was nothing more than property.

Kate stepped forward when they finally pulled apart. "I'm sorry, guys, but, we have to book Mr. Fanelli."

Tony looked at her like she just slapped him in the face. "You can't arrest him. He didn't do anything!"

His father gave him a sad smile. "I sold my children. Prison seems like a light punishment."

"Dad, please."

He grabbed Tony and pulled him into yet another embrace. "I love you, son. I never stopped." He pulled away and held his arms up so Kate could slap the handcuffs on him.

She looked down at his extended arms and shook her head. "That won't be necessary." Before he could argue more, she began to lead him down to lock-up.

The elevator dinged. Even before he saw them, Jethro knew Fornell was bringing up Amalea. He could hear her as soon as the doors slid open. She was yelling how they'd never be able to keep her.

Fanelli stopped in his tracks when he heard her. Slowly he turned around. Amalea stopped ranting. For a moment they just stared at each other. Jethro stood up and stepped forward. He was afraid what that man would do to the woman who kidnapped his son. Except the older man didn't get angry. He started crying again.

"Amy," he breathed out.

Jethro stopped moving as the realization hit him. Amalea was Amy Fanelli. Tony was kidnapped, tortured and sexually assaulted by his own twin sister.

He expected Amalea to react differently than Tony, she had stayed with the ring longer and it completely broke her down. For all intents and purposes, she should have hated this man. He didn't expect her to tearfully whisper, "Daddy," and try to approach him. Jethro feared it might be a ploy to hurt the man.

"Get her outta here," he told Fornell before Amalea could try anything.

Fornell started to pull her away. She fought hard to get free, constantly screaming, "Daddy, no, daddy, please! Don't let them take me. Daddy!"

"Amy? Amy!"

Jethro approached the crying man to offer comfort. But Fanelli pushed him away. "Where are you taking her? Why are you doing this?"

He didn't know how to explain what his daughter had done. He couldn't fathom how to explain that his daughter was so destroyed she tortured his son. She wasn't his little girl anymore. She was a killer, and ruined so many lives. But how could he tell a father that?

He swallowed a lump in his throat and simply said, "I'm sorry."

Fanelli started crying again. This time he didn't fight when Jethro offered him comfort.

Above the older man's shoulder, he caught sight of Tony, just staring. His face was completely blank, except for his eyes. Tony's eyes always gave away his feelings. He looked like he was barely containing himself. Like he would break at any moment.

Kate must have seen it too, because she approached her teammate and pulled him closer. He immediately returned the hug, but his eyes never left his boss.

_**but if  
>Thou must, I open, glad to see thee pass,<br>**_

Tony inhaled deeply. The elevator had been cleaned recently, but the scent of ammonia only masked the smells commonly found in the lift and didn't erase them entirely. It smelled like home.

He couldn't believe he was finally home. When he was taken, he was sure he'd never get back here. And now here he stood, back in his apartment building. He almost couldn't believe it. It could almost have been a dream, and if it wasn't for the fact that he worked for Gibbs, he would have believed it was.

Kate stepped into his apartment first. She had insisted on taking him home. He guessed she wanted to take care of him, or baby him, or whatever else women were prone to do. He wanted to argue, but he was just too damn tired.

"Are you hungry?" She asked after a minute of uncomfortable silence. "I could make you something."

His stomach was rumbling. He had barely eaten anything since he was taken. Amalea didn't want him to get fat, or something else just as ridiculous.

"I'm fine," he lied.

She shrugged. "We could put on a movie, and you can annoy me with every other movie the actors were in, or other films that used the same plot-"

Before she could say anything else, he cut her off. "Kate, you don't have to stay. Really, I'm fine."

She gave him that look she had perfected recently. It was one of woman's determination mixed with a hearty dose of guilt. "I don't think you should be alone tonight, Tony. What if something happens?"

He couldn't help it, he laughed. "You just locked up everybody in the ring, Daddy's dead. Who's gonna come looking for me now?"

She sighed heavily and sat down on his couch. Her eyes never left his. "Tony, there's something I need to talk to you about."

He knew what she wanted to say, so he stopped her before she could. "I don't need an apology, or your pity. I'm fine, really."

"Tony, you need to know, the things I've said-"

"I know, Kate. Really, it's not a big deal."

"It is a big deal!" She stood up and approached him. "Tony, I was horrible to you, I mocked you for the very thing that you were forced to do, and I need you to know how sorry I am."

"Kate!" He hadn't meant to yell at her. He took a deep breath and just tried to relax. But when he saw the tears in her eyes, he wasn't sure that he could.

"We would've protected you, you know. We would've had your back, we wouldn't have let them take you again."

He nodded. "I know."

"Then why didn't you tell us? Were you afraid we'd look down on you? Were you afraid we'd use it against you? Were you afraid they'd hurt us too?"

"No." Keeping calm was becoming harder and harder.

"Then what?"

"I didn't want you to pity me!" She looked taken aback for a second, so before she could open her trap again, he went on. "I see the way you're looking at me now, the way everyone was looking at me. Like you're afraid I'm gonna break at any moment. I didn't want that. I spent my entire adult life running from these people and I didn't want to," he paused to swallow down a sob that was coming. He didn't need Kate to see him cry. "I didn't want everyone I work with to know that. I just wanted to pretend it never happened."

Kate reached out to touch him, but at the last moment she thought better of it. "I can't pity you, Tony. You're the strongest man I know. I admire you."

Tony knew he had to do something, anything, to make her realize she didn't owe him anything. He liked Kate. A lot. He liked that they could argue and fight, but still have each other's back. It made him remember what it was like with his sister. When they were kids, before they were sent away. He knew he would do anything for Amy, just like he knew he would do anything for Kate. And he knew that she felt the same way. She didn't owe him anything. She already gave him more than he deserved. A second chance.

He smiled his biggest shit eating grin. "Aw, Katie, I didn't know you cared."

She smirked, her eyes still glistening with unshed tears, but she still smacked him in the arm. "You're a pain in my ass, DiNozzo."

"Yeah, but you love me."

She gave him a quick hug before he ushered her to the door. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay? No one would blame you if you didn't want to be alone."

He nodded. "I'll be fine. I was planning to get to sleep early. I missed my bed."

She sighed heavily. She clearly didn't want to leave him alone, but she respected his wishes. "Abby and I will stop by tomorrow. If you feel up to it."

"Well that depends. What are you two gonna do?" He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. She smacked him again before she finally left.

He laughed to himself as he quietly shut the door. When he turned back to look at his home, he felt like an outsider. It felt like it was forever since the last time he was here. He knew it was only two weeks, but it felt like longer. So much had happened, he wondered if he would be able to move on.

He checked the door to make sure it was locked before moving further inside his apartment. The place was completely spotless. There was a new phone sitting on his side table, Abby must have gotten that for him after he trashed his. He was grateful, but it also stung. It made him remember why he needed a new phone in the first place.

After everything that happened, he shouldn't have been upset about Gibbs being a bastard, he was always like that. But it stung. It shouldn't have. When he needed his boss, he was there. So why was he getting all upset about not giving him a few days off, especially when it didn't even matter? And if Gibbs had given him the days off, he probably would have been sold by now.

Before he could think about it anymore, he heard a knock on his door. His heart immediately stopped. Even though it was impossible, he thought it was Amalea again.

As he approached the door again, he kept trying to convince himself that it was probably just Kate, claiming she forgot something. Maybe he shouldn't have sent her away. Being along seemed like a good idea when she was around, but now that she was gone, he wished she was here. Typical.

But when he checked the peephole, he didn't see Kate or Amalea, or anyone else from the ring. Actually, the person on the other side of the door was someone he hadn't expected to show up.

He pulled the door open so fast he almost ripped the damn thing off its hinges. "What are you doing here?"

* * *

><p><strong>Yes, to everyone who guessed, you were right, Amalea is Tony's sister. I know it's not much of a surprise, but I couldn't just throw it in at random. And I already decided where it would be put near the beginning of the story, so I guess I just left too many clues. Maybe I should have come up with a better name than Amy. But by the time I wrote it, it was already too late. Well, I hope you like it, and fair warning, the next chapter includes an emotional breakdown and sex. It isn't really graphic, but it is still there. Bye everybody!<strong>

**Bob **


	29. 29

******Well here it is, folks, the second to last chapter, back from the beta and all ready for your viewing pleasure. And, it's a pretty dang long one, coming in at a little over 4,200 words! That isn't bad, right? **

**Fair warning, this chapter includes a bit of sappiness, a bit of sadness, and a bit of smut, no ness on that one. Just to let you know, if that bothers you... well, you probably wouldn't have made it this far into the story, but I figured I might as well say it.**

**Now, I want to thank everyone who has stuck with this story on its incredibly long journey, through school problems and broken computers and three different beta readers. It hasn't been easy. But we've finally made it. And I know this is only the second to last chapter, but the last chapter is already typed and currently with the beta reader, so that should be ready soon. And I'll probably say a goodbye speech at the beginning of that one. **

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><p><strong>29<strong>

Tony stared at him in complete bewilderment. Jethro couldn't blame him, even he hadn't expected to show up here tonight. He planned on going home and working on his boat for the next three days, thinking about the mess he had made. But for some reason, his body wasn't taking orders from his brain anymore. He drove here without even realizing he had until he was getting out of the truck and climbing into the elevator.

What was he doing here? Was he here to check up on Tony? To make sure nobody tried to nab him again? Did he want to apologize for being such a dick, or declare his undying love for him?

"Figured you could use the company." It was a lame excuse, even to his own ears, but Tony seemed to buy it.

He chuckled lightly before he stepped out of the doorway. "You know, Kate thought the same thing, before I kicked her out."

Jethro just gave him a knowing look. He could tell Tony wanted company. After what he went through, who could blame him? He knew the younger man would have to talk about it eventually, but he would let Tony decide when that happened.

Jethro paced back and forth while Tony watched him from the couch with a curious look on his face. The older man still didn't know what he was going to say, or even what he wanted to say.

"We booked your father." As soon as he said it, he knew it was a mistake. Tony's small smile melted away immediately. Damn it, he was usually better at this, why was he having such a hard time now? "He's gonna plead guilty, and I already talked to the prosecution. They'll give him probation."

Tony nodded. "You didn't have to do that."

Jethro shrugged. He knew he didn't have to do it. But he couldn't stand the thought of that man rotting in jail when he had already suffered so much. He also felt like he owed Tony at least that. But that was still something he didn't understand.

He sat down on the coffee table so he could look his agent in the eye. Tony's curious look was back. "Why aren't you mad at him?" Jethro asked. He knew why he wasn't angry at the man. He saw him break down, held him while he cried over what was done to his children. But Tony didn't know any of that. The last time he saw his family was when he was fifteen and saw how they managed to live without him. He couldn't understand how Tony could be so forgiving after that.

The younger man dropped his head. He wiped a hand across his brow before he finally spoke. "When I was fifteen, I ran away from the compound."

Jethro nodded. "With Darryl Whitmore, your roommate."

Tony looked up in complete shock. Jethro cursed under his breath. With all that had happened with finding Tony and realizing that Amalea was his sister, he forgot to tell him about Whitmore. "He came forward ten days ago. He's the one who told us about what you were going through."

The younger man had a tear in his eye. "How'd he know? How'd he know to go to you?"

Jethro swallowed a lump in his throat. "He was a Petty Officer. He was there when we arrested the ring's assassin."

"Was?"

"Amalea had him killed."

He couldn't stand to see Tony look so hurt. It broke his heart in a way he didn't think was possible. He wanted to reach forward and hold him, but he didn't know how Tony would take that. So instead he sat back and let him grieve.

"That day. The day we left. I was in a lesson, and the teacher, he uh, we were studying how to give a good hand job, so the teacher, he dropped his pants. And I laughed," he chuckled, but it wasn't in mirth, or even in bitterness. It was just sad. "I called him a name, said he looked like a double A battery. The other kids laughed. He told me to stop, but I wouldn't. I couldn't."

"Was that when he burned you?" He really didn't know what came over him. It seemed like everything he said was wrong. He should have just let Tony tell his story.

Tony looked at him, again in shock. "Who told you that?"

"McGee found Angela Barry. The social worker who took you to Daddy. She told Kate what you told her when you escaped. Your Urologist confirmed."

Tony looked like he was ready to break. He nodded. "Yeah. After the lesson was over, he took me back to his office. He told me to bend over his desk and drop my pants." He paused.

Jethro leaned forward. "You don't have to talk about this if you don't want to."

"I killed him."

Jethro jerked back as if he had been slapped. He hadn't heard that before. Nobody told him that Tony killed someone when he was a teenager. He couldn't blame him for it, not after what the man had done. But he couldn't imagine the kind of pain that caused. It was never easy to take a life, and Tony had done it when he was fifteen, in a compound where he was held prisoner as a sex slave. Jethro was surprised he was still sane.

"I didn't even realize I had done it, until it was over. He was just lying there," he laughed in that sad way again. "Bleeding, and I couldn't figure out how. And then I saw the poker in my hand." There was no denying that he was crying now. He wasn't trying to stop it anymore. "I panicked. I ran back to my room, and I woke up Darryl, and I told him we had to run. It took us hours to get through the windows. But we made it." He swallowed a lump in his throat. "And I didn't stop. I never even thought of going back for Amalea." He rolled his eyes. "Amy. I left her there. Alone."

"Tony—"

The younger man turned to him, his face enraged. "I was all she had, Boss. I was supposed to protect her and instead." He stopped. "I'm the reason this happened."

Jethro leaned forward again and placed a hand on the young man's knee. He kept his eyes locked on Tony's and shook his head. "None of this was your fault. You did what you had to, to survive, and Amy did the same thing." Tony dropped his head, trying to hide his tears from his bastard of a boss. Jethro squeezed his knee tighter. "What did you see? When you found your family? What did you see to make you forgive your father?" He needed to get Tony back on track. He had so much pain inside of him, and he needed to talk about it. But Jethro wanted to know. He had to know.

"The plates."

At first, the older man didn't understand. Tony wiped a hand across his face again before he continued. "They set the table that night for eight people. But there were only six of them." He looked up again, this time when he smiled, it was real. Almost happy. "Even after all those years, they were waiting for us to come home. I hadn't seen them since I was four, and I was still a part of their family."

Jethro blinked back his own tears. Fanelli hadn't told him that. He told him about the picture he looked at every day, but not how they set the table for their twins, even after so long. He wondered if they still did that now that their children were grown. He honestly didn't doubt it.

"When can I see my mom?" Tony sounded like a child when he said that. Like he was still that little four year old boy who wanted his mommy to kiss his fears away.

"She's driving down tomorrow. She wanted to come tonight, but she had to call your brother and sisters first. They're going to come down together."

Tony smiled. The sadness was still there, but it was making way for happiness. He almost looked excited. But then it was gone. "Do they know? Do they know about Amy?"

Jethro nodded. "We had to tell them."

Tony stood up and paced the room. He didn't like that everyone in his life knew about this. He wasn't the kind of guy who liked to be thought of as a victim. He never had as long as Jethro had known him. Even when he was victimized, he never saw himself like that. Before, the older man would have said it was out of pride, but now, he guessed it was more out of fear. People treat you differently when you're a victim, and he didn't want that. He was afraid of that.

Jethro stood up and approached him. He placed a hand on Tony's shoulder in as reassuring a way as possible. Tony turned around and faced him. At first, Jethro wasn't sure what was on his mind, but then he moved forward, his hands reaching for his boss' face like he was ready to kiss him.

The older man backed up, completely freaked out. "What the hell are you doing, DiNozzo?"

His agent no longer looked sad, he looked more confused. "I thought that's why you came here."

Jethro shook his head, his anger rising. "Why the hell would you think that?"

Tony blinked, the look he gave made it seem like it all made perfect sense, and Jethro was the idiot for not realizing it. "You showed up at my apartment in the middle of the night, you get me to open up to you, so you could be my shoulder to cry on. You keep touching me—"

"Screwing you is the furthest thing from my mind, Tony!" Even though he knew he was in love with Tony, he would never do that again. He refused to ever hurt him again.

Tony shook his head. "You said you'd go to the end of the earth and back for me. That's a line, Gibbs!"

Jethro didn't know how to respond to that. When he said it, it wasn't sexual, or even trying to be sexual. He had wanted Tony to know how important he was. "After what happened tonight, why would you think I came here to have sex with you?" He couldn't have been that much of a bastard, could he?

"Why else would you be here?" What bothered him the most was that Tony was completely serious.

"I wanted to see how you were doing."

"You never check on me. You barely tolerate me most of the time."

That stung. "If you're so convinced of that, why'd you sleep with me before?" Why did Tony let Jethro use him as his own personal sex toy if he thought so low of him?

Again, he sounded so serious when he spoke. "Because you wanted to."

The more Tony talked, the angrier Jethro became. "So what? You just sleep with anybody who wants to? You slept with Morrow because he wanted to, you slept with Rick the Urologist because he wanted to—"

"I never slept with—"

"He told me about your arrangement, Tony! He told me that you blew him so he would keep your appointments private." He tried to keep himself level and calm, but the more he talked, the harder it became. "How could you be so low that you would stoop to that? Do you really think that badly of yourself?"

"I don't think badly about myself, I just know who I am. You may not like it, but if anything, I actually learned something in the last two weeks." Jethro was taken aback by that statement. Tony couldn't possibly think that anything good came out of his captivity. Maybe he should have the psychiatrist check him for Stockholm Syndrome. "This is who I am, Gibbs. I accept that. I'm the guy who sleeps around, I'm the guy that everyone wants. And I'm ok with that."

"Well, I'm not."

"Gibbs, I can barely remember my parents, and as much as I love them, I honestly don't know if they love me, or if they just feel guilty that they sent me away. What do I have to offer anybody but sex? That's what people want from me, that's what you wanted from me."

"Are you saying you're ok with being loved only for your body?"

Tony just shrugged. "What else will I get?"

Jethro slammed his fist into the wall next to the younger man's head. To his credit, Tony didn't flinch.

"Why do you care so much, Boss? It's my life."

"Because I love you, Bonehead!" The younger man's eyes widened in shock. Jethro continued, so he was surprised he could actually find his voice. "And not just because of your body, or how good you are in bed. To be honest, I could care less about that. I love you because you're smart, and funny, and because you make… _living _worthwhile!" He started to back up. Tony still looked like a deer in the headlights. "And I came here to tell you that." He turned to leave.

Tony grabbed him by the arm to stop him. Jethro turned around, ready to say something else, let Tony know that he didn't need anything from him, that he just wanted the young man to know. But he never got the words out. Before he could utter one thing, Tony leaned forward and pressed their lips together.

It was gentle, and soft. More like a taste than a full kiss. But Jethro didn't want it to end. When Tony pulled away, Jethro found himself leaning forward, just to keep the kiss going.

His mind told him to pull away, that this wasn't what was best for Tony. He had come to learn that his body had a mind of its own whenever the younger man touched him, but he tried to fight it. He tried to fill his thoughts with the images of the compound, of all the kids that were brutalized there. He tried to remember that only a few hours ago, Tony was among them.

But when the younger man grabbed his face and pulled him into another, more passionate kiss, he couldn't think anymore, he could only feel.

He pushed the younger man against the wall and returned the kiss with all he had. Tony's hands were all over him, finding those spots that drove him wild with desire, but he grabbed the boy's hands and pushed them to the side. He pushed his knee between Tony's legs and rubbed him through the thick denim. Tony gasped.

Jethro pulled away, suddenly realizing what he was doing and terrified that he hurt him. "Are you ok?"

Tony nodded. "Do that again."

With a smirk, Jethro did as asked. Tony gasped again, his head falling back against the wall. He did it again, and again. Tony gasped and moaned, his eyes clamped shut and sweat pouring down his beautiful face. Jethro's body pulsed. His lust was growing, watching Tony enjoy himself. He didn't care about his own release, he wanted to this to be about the younger man, and only about him, but it excited him to see the boy in the throes of ecstasy.

He leaned forward and attached his lips to Tony's throat. He didn't have the skills that were forced on his partner, but he did know how to drive someone wild. He was married four times, if he didn't learn how to cause an orgasm, that wouldn't have happened. He found the pulse in his partner's throat and sucked it into his mouth. Tony shuddered.

As quickly as he could, he released the younger man's arms and scooped him into his own. He fell forward under the added weight. Tony wasn't heavy, but he wasn't exactly light either, and it had been a while since Jethro felt someone's legs wrapped around his waist.

Tony laughed as he wrapped his long arms around Jethro's neck. He went to attack the older man with kisses, but Jethro turned his head and caught the boy's mouth with his own.

He barely remembered the way to Tony's bedroom. He actually got lost three times; first he made it to the kitchen, the bathroom, and even a linen closet before his partner took pity on him and gave him directions. Jethro felt his face heat up, but this time it wasn't with desire, rather embarrassment.

They slammed through the door, and Jethro fell into the bed, pinning Tony underneath him. He quickly ripped his clothes off before turning his attention back to the younger man. Slowly and sensually, he peeled the clothes off the younger man's body. As soon as the shirt was open, Jethro's lips found their way to Tony's left nipple.

With a hiss, the younger man arched his back, pushing the tender bead further into his boss' mouth. His eyes were still closed as Jethro made his way to the other side. He watched the emotions playing off Tony's face. He wanted to make sure that he wasn't hurting the younger man, that he was enjoying himself. He wanted him to know that his body deserved to be worshipped, and he wanted to give it the same treatment the younger man had given countless partners over the years. As if Tony's pleasure was the only thing that mattered, because it was.

His fingers worked the zipper on Tony's jeans, the younger man's pelvis thrust forward. He gripped the sheets underneath him. Jethro's mouth made a path across his entire torso, enjoying the taste of the skin. He kept his eyes trained on his partner. Tony's mouth was wide open in a silent gasp as Jethro's hands worked underneath his denim.

He pushed the jeans down and engulfed Tony's hard member between his lips. Tony barked.

He couldn't stop the moan that escaped his lips. He had never been a fan of performing oral sex before, especially on men. He always preferred to be on the receiving end. But hearing, and watching Tony thrash about in pure pleasure, and feeling the muscle expand in his throat sent static shockwaves coursing through his body. He wanted to take the younger man, he wanted to feel that tightness around his manhood again. But he knew he could never feel that again. He would never hurt his partner like that again.

When he felt Tony was close to orgasm, he pulled away. The younger man groaned in frustration, but Jethro just chuckled. His mind kept replaying their first night together. The guilt was overwhelming him, and he needed to get those images out of his head. That entire night, he only cared about himself, about his climax, but not about his partner's. He was going to fix that. Tonight was all about Tony.

The younger man kicked his pants out of the way and spread his legs, as if waiting for Jethro to enter him. He grabbed the things he'd need from the nightstand and handed them over to his partner. But the older agent just kept looking at his face. There wasn't excitement, or even the ecstasy he saw only moments before. There was just fear. It was the same look he had their first night, Jethro just didn't realize it before.

His hand caressed Tony's knee as he leaned down and gently kissed him again. "Not tonight." He grabbed the lubricant out of Tony's hand and poured a generous amount into his hand. Then he proceeded to cover Tony's pulsing manhood with it. His partner looked up at him in confusion, but Jethro didn't say anything. He heart was beating so fast he wasn't sure he'd even be able to make out what he would say. He had never done this before. It went against his very nature. He always believed that letting a lover penetrate you was feminine, something that women, or weak men did. Not a Marine sniper who's been married four times with countless ex-girlfriends under his belt.

Tony must have sensed his problems, because he said, "Boss, if you don't want to do this, that's fine. I'm ok."

Jethro shook his head. "I'm not." Before the younger man could argue anymore, he took a deep breath and plunged himself down on Tony's lap.

Pain shot through his entire body and he howled in agony. He hadn't even taken the time to prepare himself. This was the first time he'd ever bottomed in his life, and he didn't even stretch himself.

A shiver ran down his spine. He kept his eyes closed and started to move his hips. Every movement caused pain to course through his body, but he didn't stop. Considering the pain he put Tony through the first time, he could handle a little soreness.

He kept moving, kept his eyes closed, and kept listening to the sounds his partner was making. Tony was gasping, grunting and moaning with every thrust. They weren't faked. Jethro smiled. That made it all worth it. And the more he moved, the more the pain began to subside, making way for pure pleasure.

He no longer felt it necessary to clamp his eyes shut, but they didn't open. He threw his head back and moaned. The pain was almost completely gone, but it wouldn't matter either way. It felt so good, he never wanted it to stop.

Tony thrust upward to meet him every time he brought his pelvis down. On the last trip, Tony hit that spot deep inside of him that made him see stars. He could barely keep himself up any longer, his entire body was turning into jelly.

Suddenly, he was grabbed around the biceps and flipped over so the younger man was on top of him, never breaking their rhythm.

His partner wasn't gentle, he plunged deep inside of him over and over, bringing the pain back full force, but fuck it felt so good. Tony buried his head into the nape of Jethro's neck and bit into the skin. Jethro reached around and grabbed onto Tony's shoulder blades so tight he was convinced he broke through skin, not that the younger man noticed.

The younger man finally stopped blindly fucking him. Heat spilled into his backside and it was only then did he remember that he didn't put a condom on Tony's erection. Right now, he didn't care. Feeling Tony fill him, feeling the tremors of orgasm rake through his body, sent Jethro over the edge himself. He threw his head back again and screamed as everything he had in his body spilled out of him and covered the two of them.

Tony finally pulled out of him and plopped down next to him. He had a smile that Jethro was sure he'd never seen on the younger man before. "Wow."

Jethro couldn't help but chuckle. He sounded like a high school virgin. It was ridiculously adorable.

He turned towards his partner and frowned. "I didn't hurt you, did I?"

Jethro waved him off. "Nothing I can't handle." If he was completely honest, he was in agony. Now that the thrill of orgasm was fading, he was in complete pain. But he sure as hell wasn't going to tell Tony that.

"You know, we could've. I mean, I wouldn't have minded if—"

The older man cut him off before he could say anymore. "No, we couldn't."

"I can handle it, Boss."

"DiNozzo," he grabbed Tony's head and stared deep into his bright green eyes, hoping to convey his message, "that will never happen again, you understand? I'm never going to hurt you again."

He saw a single tear begin to gleam in Tony's eye before he ripped his face out of Jethro's grasp and turned his back to him.

At first, Jethro thought he should leave. He didn't want to overstay his welcome if Tony didn't want him there, but then he thought better of it. Tony had spent so much of his life alone, spent so much time believing that the only thing people wanted from him was sex, and then he comes along and tells him that he's completely in love with him for something other than his body. If he just fucked and ran, he would completely destroy the younger man's psyche. There were only so many hits the poor boy could take before he completely snapped.

So he didn't run. He didn't turn away. He scooted forward until he was spooned up against Tony's back. At first, the younger man tried to push him away, even tried to elbow him a couple of times. But Jethro didn't back off, he wouldn't. He kept his grip tight enough to stop the dreaded elbow from smacking him in the face, but loose enough so Tony didn't think himself a prisoner. It must have been at least five minutes before the younger man finally stopped fighting, and just let Jethro hold him. The only sounds that wer made were Tony's light sobs until he drifted off to sleep.

* * *

><p><strong>So, like I said, nothing was really graphic, I mean, not as graphic as I've written in the past, and yes, most of you were right, it was Gibbs. And hey! Look at that! No cliffhanger, of any kind! Come on, you know you're happy about that.<strong>

**Bob**


	30. 30

******Ok, first of all, I am so sorry this took so long, it was not my intention to take so damn long. But, you don't have to worry about that anymore because THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER! Yes, it was a long road, but it has finally happened. And I want to thank everybody for making it this far. It wasn't easy, but we made it. Hopefully it was at least a fun ride.**

**As always, because this is the last chapter, there will not be an ending author's note, but I did include the poem, _For the Gate of the Courtesans_ by Henri de Regnier (translated by Jethro Bithell) for anyone who's interested. Also, there is going to be no sequel to this story, so you can breathe easy, this story is completely finished. And I hate to say it, but I will be going on a temporary hiatus from fanfiction for a while as I work on my original stories. And I think that's it. Congratulations for making it to the end.**

* * *

><p><strong>30<strong>

Tom gazed at the night sky. His office had a wonderful view. Despite everything that had gone on for the last ten days, watching the lights dance across the city made him think that everything was still alright. He needed to believe that after tonight.

The new Secretary of the Navy, Davenport, was sitting across from him, just watching the back of his chair while he watched the night. Tom was surprised that they had managed to find a new Secnav so quickly. Davenport claimed that he was just filling in until they found a permanent replacement, but Tom had known Davenport for years. He_ was_ the permanent replacement.

"Rough couple of weeks, huh?" Davenport finally said after almost fifteen minutes of silence.

With a sad smile, Tom turned his chair back around to finally face his new boss. Davenport was one of the good ones. That was probably why he had been chosen, because he hadn't participated in it, let alone known the ring had even existed.

"Hard to believe something like this even existed." It made him proud of his people. His agents were the ones that had brought this Ring crumbling down. Not the FBI, Homeland Security, or Interpol. It had been NCIS.

Davenport leaned back in his chair and crossed his legs. "Well, I hate to break it to you, Tom, but it's not over yet."

That confused the Director. "I don't understand. We ended it. We got the ringleader, Daddy Warbucks is dead—"

"And there are still people out there who are still suffering," Secnav cut him off.

Damn, he thought. He almost forgot about that. If they already had a slave, a so-called 'Dependent,' then they might not have been at the auction tonight. He didn't know how far this spread, and he didn't know what was going to happen now. "What are you saying, Sir?"

Davenport gave him a sad smile. "Homeland Security will handle the rest of the case. They'll prosecute those involved and track down the rest of the people."

Tom started to argue. His agency had been the ones to blow this thing wide open. Homeland Security wasn't even involved. But Davenport cut him off again. "They're setting up a special task force. They are more equipped to handle this mess than we are."

"Damn it, Phil, my people were the ones to stop this. I almost lost too many agents because of this, we should be the ones to have the task force."

Davenport looked at his curiously. "You seem adamant about this, Tom. Are you more invested in this than you're letting on?"

Tom was furious with the accusation. "They kidnapped one of my men. This was blown up, because of my men. And you want to take us out of the loop?" He wasn't going to tell Davenport about his affair with Agent DiNozzo. It wasn't any of his damn business.

The two men were silent for a while, just sizing each other up. Tom was scowling, he was furious with the new Secnav. He wasn't involved in this ring at all, he wasn't the one who had to see the toll it put on his people. And now he was trying to take it away, give it to somebody else. And the fact that he just kept smirking pissed him off even more.

"Homeland Security needs somebody to run the task force. An Assistant Director. Somebody who knows the situation. Your name came up."

Tom was immediately floored. He hadn't expected a job offer. He wanted to be on this investigation, he owed it to his people. But he wasn't expecting this.

He shook his head. "Assistant Director?" He was already head of an Agency, could he really take a paycut?

Davenport shrugged. "It's the only way to keep you on this case. It's Homeland's jurisdiction now. But if you want it, the job's yours."

Tom thought about it for a while. After all the grief this case caused his people, he should stay on, try and help them deal with it. But at the same time, after what he did to Agent DiNozzo, how could he? He caused him more pain than he ever intended, whether intentional or not. The young man shouldn't have to see his face every day. He was his boss, somebody who he should have been able to trust, and he took advantage of him. Maybe it would be better to just walk away. And if he took this job at Homeland, then he could make sure that nobody else ever went through what Agent DiNozzo did. He couldn't think of a better way to redeem himself.

He leaned back in his chair and sighed heavily. "I'm going to need to find a replacement before I go."

It didn't take him long to make up his mind, but then, he knew the moment he heard about the offer that he was going to take it. He wasn't going to stop until every bastard involved in the ring was brought to justice. Or dead, he preferred that option, but he kept it to himself.

Davenport nodded as he got up to take his leave. "Take your time."

Now that he was alone, Tom let out a sigh of relief. This was the right thing to do, he knew that. He couldn't expect Agent DiNozzo to want to work under him anymore, and he shouldn't have to. Jethro would need time to forgive him too, Tom knew that his friend had feelings for the boy. And if he stayed, he wouldn't be able to keep the two of them together. There were rules about that. But if he was gone, he would take that knowledge with him.

This was the only option, he knew. And he was ok with that.

_**Laughing and double past my double glass.**_

Tony heard Gibbs come to life under him. He froze for a second, unsure how the older man was going to respond to him doodling all over his back. But Gibbs just turned his head with a sleepy smile on his face. "What are you doin'?"

Tony tried to stutter out an answer, but before he could form words, Gibbs saw the marker in his hand. He jumped to his feet and ran to the bathroom. Tony sat on the bed with the blanket partially covering up his nudity and waited for the shouts of anger.

He kept his head down. After a second, he heard footsteps patter back into the room. After an agonizingly long silence, Gibbs finally spoke. "'Property of Anthony DiNozzo?'"

Still with his head between his knees, Tony nodded.

"Why?"

He shrugged.

He heard the footsteps move closer, and then the bed dipped and he felt warm, strong arms wrap around him. His head shot up, nearly knocking into Gibbs' nose. The older man pulled his head away just in time with a laugh.

Tony ignored that. There were more important issues at hand. "You're not mad?"

Gibbs shrugged. "I'm bothered. Not by you, but," he pulled his head down and sighed heavily, "we shouldn't have done that."

Tony shook his head, confused. "You said you loved me."

"I do. That's why that shouldn't have happened."

The younger man was still confused. Usually, when people were in love, they had sex, didn't they? Granted, his experience with love was limited, but he knew that much.

Gibbs wiped a hand across his face. "Tony, we just got you back. Sex should have been the last thing we did after that."

Tony just realized the space his boss put between them. Hadn't he just been right next to him?

He scooted closer until he was touching the older man again. "I'm glad we did that. I never… felt that good before."

Gibbs smiled. "It's called an orgasm, Tony."

"Yeah, well, I never had one before. In the ring, they taught us how to come on demand, but I never, just enjoyed sex before. And I won't regret that." He scrunched his face up as the embarrassing memory came up. "But I do regret hurting you."

Gibbs shook his head. "You didn't hurt me, Tony."

"I got a little rough there at the end."

Gibbs shrugged. "It wasn't anything I couldn't handle." He reached forward and put his hand on Tony's knee. "I just…" he sighed heavily again. "I don't want you to think I'm using you."

Tony took a deep breath. "So, you wanna move slowly?'

He nodded. "Yeah. That a problem?"

"Nobody's ever said that to me before. It's weird." When he saw the look on Gibbs face, he quickly added, "not a bad weird. I mean, it's good. It's different."

Gibbs cut him off before he could keep rambling. "Tony. It's not a bad thing. I'm just surprised."

"About what?"

Gibbs pulled Tony closer until the younger man was practically on top of him and pulled them down onto the bed. "How nobody before ever realized what a catch you are." He kissed the top of Tony's head. "And I'm glad to belong to you."

Tony smiled as he wrapped his arms around his new… he didn't even know what to call him. He was still his boss, but this was definitely more intimate. Boyfriend? Lover? Partner? He didn't really know. He did know that Gibbs loved him though.

Gibbs eventually fell back to sleep. Tony listened as his breathing evened out. A smile came to his mouth. He wasn't sure he loved Gibbs back, or even if he knew what love meant. But he could pretend for a while, if it made Gibbs happy. And who knew? Maybe eventually, he'd grow to care for the older man just as much.

He at least wanted to try.

_**IF to the town thou come some morning, to  
>Join the sweet, frivolous, futile sisters who<br>Bestow their love and sell their beauty, wait  
>Before thou enter my returnless gate,<br>Whose folding-doors are mirrors; there descry  
>Thy coming self, thou who art tempted by<br>The gold, it may be, and the banquet's hum,  
>Thou from a vast and distant country come,<br>Thou who still pure, and innocently bare,  
>Smilest, with autumn's russet in thy hair,<br>And summer's fruits upon thy breast embossed,  
>And thy soft skin like fabled sea-caves mossed,<br>And in thy warmest flesh's secret fold  
>The form of rosy shells the seas have rolled,<br>And beauty of dawn and shadow, and the scent  
>Of flowers and gardens, woods and sea-weed blent!<br>Tarry, ere the ineffable alms thou bring  
>Of being both the autumn and the spring<br>To those who far from dawn and harvests live.  
>Listen, thou mayest yet return, but if<br>Thou must, I open, glad to see thee pass,  
>Laughing and double past my double glass.<strong>_

5


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